Emotion: the glove into which pain slips its hand
by seriousish
Summary: On the road to the Westland, Cara falls in with pilgrims, protects the Lord Rahl, and is desperately in love with Kahlan Amnell. Betaed by Ivanolix and Susurrusnight.
1. Home is the place where it feels Part 1

Cara hated birds. She'd been able to compile an exhaustive list of things she hated since she left the Mord'Sith temple, seemingly forever, and although some of those selections were made prematurely (Kahlan was not a _hatred_, merely an _annoyance_ who was surprisingly useful), joining the Seeker had definitely broadened her horizons, hate-wise.

Birds, she hated because they sung in the morning and she usually slept outside, so the one thing she could consistently associate with the separation from well-deserved sleep and another day of helping the pathetic whelps of mankind and trodding the minefield of her comrades' emotional dynamics (not to mention the more routine difficulties such as monsters, banelings, and D'Haran soldiers who just could not _take a hint_), was birds. Singing. And shoot just one of the little ball of feathers with an arrow and everyone looked at her weird the rest of the day. Not that she minded fear, it was healthy, but Kahlan just had this _look_…

The thing was, today the birds weren't annoying her. They were insistent on singing, yes, but not directly in her ear. It had something to do with the window between her and her arch-nemesis, but also with the wall there. She was inside.

Cara was mostly sure she'd gone to sleep outside, as per tradition, but now she was in a bed. Sturdy. Well-made. That was all she had time to ascertain as she rolled off it. Her leathers were gone. So were her Agiels.

Grabbing a chair, Cara rapidly demolished it for its legs, which would make serviceable bludgeons. It was only after she was armed that she noticed what she was wearing. They were some sort of nightclothes; she had seen the Queen of Marlina wearing one when she and her sisters took the palace during the night. It was a wisp of a thing, probably not enough to make more than four bandages if the wounds were severe. Cara kept it on anyway. Attacking in the nude had its advantages, but then there was Kahlan's _look_ to think about, and the chance that maybe she had gone to sleep in the bed of some grateful townsperson. Or that she'd given them something to be grateful about.

If she had, then the broken chair would make them just about even. Men had suffered worse for a night with her.

Being as stealthy as possible in the morning light, in a white nightgown, with the hated birds chirping, Cara prowled out of the bedroom and into the hallway. It was made from the same timber as the previous room and the bed, with the kind of solid workmanship she recognized from the homes of nobles and minor lords. She was in a manor of some sort, with carpets on the floor and paintings on the wall.

Hearing voices, Cara turned in the opposite direction and padded around the corner. She tried to listen for what they were saying, but then came footsteps from the opposite direction. Finding a window, Cara pushed the panes of glass open and slipped outside. Glass. Definitely a manor. At least she wasn't being held prisoner by a beggar.

Then she heard Kahlan's voice.

She would justify it later by thinking that Kahlan could lead her to the Lord Rahl, but all the justification in the world wouldn't dispel the memory of her first two reactions. First, to safeguard Kahlan against whoever it was that had separated her from her Agiels. And second, to have some sense made of this disorienting new world.

She stalked around the house until she saw Kahlan, crouching in a patch of dirt amidst the flowers and vines of the garden in back of the house. The Confessor held a walking stick, and was using it to scratch letters into the ground. And she wore a dress that could've belonged to a peasant, rough-knit fabrics and a kerchief tied to keep her hair out of her face. Cara almost didn't recognize her, but the bearing of the Mother Confessor was unmistakable.

After a quick look around for signs of a trap, Cara stopped resisting the urge to go to her. She leapt the fence and hurried to Kahlan's side.

"Mother Confessor," she said in greeting, once again not knowing what more to say and so leaving it at that.

Kahlan looked up at her and her mouth smiled and her eyes were lit from within in a reaction that was entirely improper to a Mord'Sith. "Cara! You're feeling better!" She looked down. "And you're standing in my lesson."

Cara looked down at the letters she was standing on. Was this meant to be a punishment for Kahlan? No one was allowed to discipline the mate of the Lord Rahl, save the Lord Rahl himself, and Cara would kill a second Lord Rahl before she ever allowed Richard to entertain the idea. Then a rustle came from inside the house, many floorboards creaking, raised voices, a cacophony of motion. Gripping her cudgels tightly, Cara placed herself between the approaching threat and Kahlan.

And a gaggle of children burst through the door, dueling with sticks, throwing bags of dirt back and forth, and generally being childish.

"Children, Cara's feeling better!" Kahlan announced with a smile.

A cheer went up and then Cara was swarmed so hard she was borne to the ground. She would've defended herself, but this was a situation where Kahlan definitely would've given her a look.

* * *

Half an hour later, when Kahlan had managed to extricate Cara from the pile of children trying to hug her at once (or braid her hair, it got confusing) and started the children on copying the letters she had inscribed on the ground, Kahlan brought Cara back inside and showed her to a dresser. Cara found a simple pair of breeches and a shirt which she hurriedly changed into.

"You could wear one of my dresses, if you like?" Kahlan volunteered.

Cara gave Kahlan her own look, then tightened the stitches on her shirt. "Do you know where my Agiels are?"

"Your what?"

"A weapon," Cara replied, exasperated.

"You keep your tools in the backroom. Cara, are you sure you're feeling alright? Maybe you should lie back down."

Cara was already on her way down the halls. They seemed familiar, like she'd dreamed about them. Of the three doors in the back of the house, her first try netted her a room full of blacksmith tools. Cara looked past the hammers and bellows to find a work-knife in a leather sheath, which she hung off her belt. It comforted her considerably.

"Now." She turned to Kahlan, who was mustering her concern in the doorway. "Where's Richard?"

"Richard Cypher?" Kahlan asked, confused.

"Yes. Richard Cypher, or Richard Rahl, or the Seeker of Truth, or the Caharin, or whatever he's calling himself this week."

"I imagine he's at the marketplace. Why?"

Cara gritted her teeth. "I don't know, I suppose I thought it'd be fun to keep him from being killed by anything today."

"You think he's in danger?" Kahlan was shocked.

"I haven't seen him for an hour, so most likely." Cara picked up a smithy hammer, which had the virtue of being very heavy. "Would you take me to him?"

"Of course," Kahlan replied, and led Cara out the door.

* * *

The more they passed through it, the more familiar the village looked. It was almost an exact duplicate of the one where Cara's sister lived, except for the manor they had been in. A sign marked it as a school, and the other side of the sign had an anvil on it. Cara supposed a blacksmith lived there as well.

Walking fast, they passed through the outlying homes (to a truly vexing chorus of people wishing her good morning, _by name_, and inquiring about her health, to which Kahlan could only shrug hopefully) and arrived in a bustling marketplace, which was also new. It had nothing on the markets of Aydindril or the one outside the People's Palace, but it seemed prosperous enough.

"Cara!" one man said, quickly breaking from his haggling to walk alongside her. "It's good to see you up and about! When do you think you'll have my saddle ready?"

Kahlan stepped between them. "I'm not sure it's best for Cara to return to work just yet. She's feeling a little…"

Cara almost pushed Kahlan aside. "Have you seen Richard Cypher?"

The man was taken aback. "Yes, he's over there, his usual spot." And he pointed.

Cara went that way, Kahlan following, the man staying behind and muttering something about relationship troubles.

The stall he'd pointed to was in the midst of a small crowd. As Cara approached, one of the peasants broke away from it, chewing on a rabbit which still sizzled from its cooking fire.

"Come one, come all, eat a hearty breakfast for a hearty day!" an earnest, if cracking, voice cajoled. "Buy a rabbit-on-a-stick, freshly caught this morning! Don't let rabbit fat ruin your sensitive hands! Buy your rabbit _on a stick_!"

Cara pushed through the crowd, Kahlan apologizing behind her. The stall had a dozen rabbits left, rotating over a pit of coals. Zedd was there, stirring the spit. And a gawky boy of fourteen, scruffy hair dotting his face and overflowing from his scalp, exchanged coins for meat. He was familiar too.

"Richard Cypher?" Cara asked slowly. She may have forgotten a few things, but she wouldn't have forgotten the Lord Rahl being… shrunk.

"Cara!" He signaled to Zedd to take over the exchange and then hopped the counter to embrace her. The lad managed to fit the entire school's exuberance into his lank frame. "I thought you'd never get better! I gathered you some flowers! Did you like them?"

"They were very pretty," Kahlan assured him, somehow finding the death-grip he had on Cara amusing. "They're beside her bed right now. Where we should be," she added, taking Cara's arm, which thankfully separated her from Richard.

"Still getting over your fever, huh?" Richard nodded in sympathy. "You know what's great for fever? Rabbit-on-a-stick."

"Not now, Richard." Kahlan gave Cara's arm a firm tug, but the Mord'Sith was immovable.

"Half-off for a friend!"

"You," Cara announced coolly, her eyes slits, "are not the Lord Rahl."

"Well… I might be." He fidgeted. "What's a Lord Rahl?"

"The lord and ruler of D'Hara, master of all he surveys, war wizard, beloved of the Mother Confessor…"

"I have customers," Richard interrupted. He ran back around the stall to give the spit a spin before the rabbits could burn. "And I don't know where D'Hara is, but here in the Midlands, we pay homage to Queen Dennee."

"Though she should pay homage to us, the taxes we pay," Zedd groused.

"Gramps!" Richard was more than a little aghast. "If it weren't for the taxes, who would build the roads? And if it weren't for the roads, how would people get here to the market? And if it weren't for the market, where would I sell these rabbits? On sticks?"

While this was going on, Cara was conferring with Kahlan. "Dennee? Your sister?"

"Cara," Kahlan admonished. She picked at Cara's clothes. "I know we live comfortably, but I hardly think we count as royalty."

Of all the things that didn't make sense, Cara fixated on one like an eagle on a field mouse. "If Dennee _were_ your sister, how would that make _me_ royalty?"

"Well, I don't know how they do it in 'H'Dara', but here, being married to the sister of the queen would definitely count as royalty."

It was then Cara noticed the band of gold wrapped around her ring finger, matched by the one Kahlan wore on hers.

So it was that Cara's mind decided it had had quite enough of this nonsense, and the Mord'Sith blacked out.

"She should've had a rabbit-on-a-stick," Richard opined.


	2. Home is the place where it feels Part 2

Cara moved through the woods, hard-pressed to track her elusive prey. The farming clothes she was trapped in made her feel like her skin had been stripped away and replaced with something else. Her boots had a hole in them. But, she had a duty.

Ahead of her, Richard stopped. He turned slowly, holding up his wooden sword. "Who goes there?" he asked, sounding braver than he looked.

She stepped out of the shadows. "Cara," she rolled her eyes, "the blacksmith."

"Are you following me?" He looked her over. "Neat!"

Once more, Cara failed to keep her emotions from her face.

Swinging his arms in an ineffably smug manner, Richard proceeded into a clearing. Six boys were waiting with their own weapons, ranging from wooden swords to walking sticks. Upon seeing Richard, a little dusky-skinned one ran to his side.

"What are we in for, Chase?"

Chase hoisted an axe with no head. "Not good, Seeker. The Imperial Order has us surrounded!"

Richard unsheathed his sword with a self-supplied noise. "Then we'll just have to go over their graves!"

One of the 'Imperial Order' stepped forward. "You shouldn't have burned down our garrison, Seeker! The Imperial Order strikes back!"

Cara stepped between them, brandishing her chair leg. "Stay back or face the wrath of the Mord'Sith!"

The boys exchanged looks. Then they charged.

* * *

"So, I hear you and Richard had some fun tonight," Kahlan remarked, stirring the soup, her ladle occasionally gonging against the cast-iron sides of the cauldron.

Cara broke off her suspicious glare at the empty soup bowl before her. "It wasn't fun. It was training. And they were poor sparring partners."

Kahlan gestured for her to hold out the bowl, then slopped some soup into it. "Well, Richard would like you to know that the Imperial Order is moving against Fort Brigadon in the morning." Kahlan served herself, then sat down across from Cara. "Honey, it's okay if you're feeling confused. When I had the fever, I spent five days ranting about evil chickens."

Cara forced a spoonful into her mouth. It tasted good. That irritated her. "Kahlan, how long have we been married?"

"Six years. Does it feel longer?" she teased.

"Then why don't you tell me about myself?"

"Alright." Kahlan folded her arms. Such a Mother Confessor pose in such domestic circumstances gave Cara double-vision. "You were born right here in Stowcroft, and to hear your mother tell it, you were quite the tomboy. Your sister lives here too, but you chose a house at the other end of town, probably because you don't get along with her husband."

"He did almost get me executed." Cara didn't add that it had been by Kahlan. It seemed peevish.

"You apprenticed yourself to the blacksmith, and when he died, you took over."

"And why would I want to be a blacksmith?"

"Maybe you like hitting things."

Cara nodded.

"Seven years ago, I came to Stowcroft as part of Queen Dennee's educational campaign. And as soon as I set foot in town, you started courting me."

"I… _courted_… you?"

"And when I connected the little metal hearts someone kept sending me to the fact that you never charged me for anything, we were married."

"And how's the sex?" Cara asked.

Six years of marriage must've cured Kahlan of her modesty. "You suffered through it. By all the screaming, you must've really hated it. I apologize."

She had made Cara blush.

* * *

With more time spent with Kahlan threatening to make her crack, Cara went to her forge. There was a growing sense of déjà vu. She picked up the tools and they fit in her hand. Starting the fire in the hearth was automatic, as easy as finding the right place to stick an Agiel. She worked the bellows to blow on the coal and it was as natural as blood flowing in her veins. Grabbing a mass of iron and slag (_bloom, it was called a bloom_), she went to work on it.

For minutes, she lost herself in the repetition of it. Just like breaking someone. You hit it and hit it and waited for it to crack open and present itself to you. It was bracing. No screaming, no pain, no looks from Kahlan. And when Cara abruptly realized how sweaty and sore and contented she was, a little red-hot heart was waiting to be dipped in the slack tub.

Cara did, feeling the steam rise up and break against her face. This could be a problem.

* * *

The Lord Rahl loved Kahlan. This was not just a fact, it was a great truth of the universe. Water was wet, the sky was blue, Mord'Sith could kill anything, and Richard loved Kahlan. She was all his hopes, dreams, and ambitions built into one idol. And she loved him.

She didn't belong to Cara. Water was not dry. The sky was not red. Mord'Sith were not weak. And Kahlan loved Richard, not Cara.

Cara raised the heart from the water, watched drops fall from its cooling contours. It was good work. The kind of work that came with lots of practice. Not just at smithing, but at this particular shape, for this particular person.

What was this? Had she died and was this the Creator's thanks to her? It seemed a bit meager for all her contributions to the forces of right and good. Didn't she warrant slave girls and cake?

Or maybe this was the underworld, and Darken Rahl was tormenting her in some subtle way. She'd open up to Kahlan, let her guard down, and then the fire would sweep in and she'd be naked and alone. That seemed more likely.

Or it could be just a very, very strange dream. That would probably be it. She'd had to rely on Richard's woodcraft for nutrition too long, and all the shadrin meat and berries had finally taken their toll. She was hallucinating. Zedd was probably chortling over her right now, as she lay in Kahlan's lap, muttering feverishly…

Cara looked up at the sky. "If any of you are listening to my fever dreams, you had better stop _right **now!**_"

The sky made no response.

But if it was just a fever dream, then why not partake of circumstances? And Kahlan? After all, the Mother Confessor wasn't unattractive. And judging by her fighting, she could probably keep up with Cara. For long enough, at any rate.

But… the Lord Rahl's mate. It was treacherous to even consider the possibility. And Richard was the kind of Lord Rahl who deserved a Mord'Sith's devotion, as strange a concept as that seemed. It would be easier, much easier, if this entire scenario were a meaningless delusion, not something she wanted enough to take advantage of.

There were things a Mord'Sith could not have. It did no good to dwell on them.

Sweeping the heart in with the rest of the scrap iron, Cara visualized an Agiel in her mind's eye. Even if she couldn't endow it with magic, she could build one of the same weight and heft. And then she'd be one step closer to being back to normal.

* * *

It was hours before she went back inside, into the smell of flowers and food and a home. The Agiel she left outside, its metal unpainted. Kahlan had set a table. Game hen. One smell and Cara knew it was her favorite.

"Back to work, huh?" Kahlan ran a hand across Cara's cheek, and it came away sooty. "You eat. I'll draw a bath."

For a moment, Cara nearly protested. The thought of sharing a meal with Kahlan was tempting. Then it frightened her as much as a Mord'Sith could be frightened.

She ate heartily, quickly. It wouldn't do to let Kahlan see how much she enjoyed it. At the corner of earshot, she could hear water sloshing in from the town aqueduct, the sizzle as hotstones were dropped in with it. Kahlan would make the Lord Rahl a very good wife someday.

Cara finished, licked her fingers. Kahlan did not see.

"Spirits. Did you work up an appetite!" Kahlan said, returning. She kissed the back of Cara's neck. The Mord'Sith flinched. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Cara asked as Kahlan pulled her from her chair.

"I told you. Bath. I spent all day getting the linens clean and I am not letting you get your sweat all over them." Kahlan gave Cara a playful shove. "If you want that, you'll have to do it the old-fashioned way."

The bath was a gorgeous thing of porcelain, putting the rest of the house to shame. It even had a little dip at the bottom for the hotstones to rest in. And Cara couldn't help but consider that it was big enough for two.

"Thanks for getting it for me," Kahlan said with another kiss delivered to Cara's neck. Did the Lord Rahl have to put up with that? "I know you don't mind being dirty, but I love a good soak." She untucked Cara's tunic. "So, sick girl, you just lie back and I'll—"

"I can bathe myself," Cara said defensively, pressing her tunic to her body.

Kahlan took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I just thought, since you were feverish, I could… take care of you."

Was she going to cry? Cara could not make the Lord Rahl's mate cry. "You haven't eaten. You should. I'll be fine. I didn't mean to snap at you."

* * *

The warmth stole into her, eating away the pain of the forge, and that was bad. It was a good pain, a noble pain, a worthy approximation of her Agiel. But… the bathwater and the oils and the soap and the shampoo, they were Kahlan. Sweet. Cloying. Honey. Candy. The kind that stuck to your teeth, but tasted so good on your tongue.

Cara could do with being clean. She could do with smelling pretty. She could do with Kahlan looking at her like she was a human being instead of a Mord'Sith bitch. Not that Kahlan had ever looked at her like that. She had a way of seeing the best in people. Even if she had to make it up.

Cara had a brief vision of Kahlan seeing the strength in her, the violence, the pain to be given or taken, the sheer _willingness_… and then…

She got out of the bath. She'd been right the first time. It was bad.

* * *

Kahlan had made her thoughts known on Cara's dirty clothes, which stunk of hard work. She'd wrinkled her nose and given Cara a shake of her head, but Cara could tell she enjoyed the musk of it. It was secondhand knowledge, like her mastery of smithing.

So Cara dressed in the nightgown Kahlan had delicately folded for her beside the wash basin. The towel was soft fluff on her skin. The nightgown soothed over her like lotion. Kahlan…

Outside, Kahlan was doing the dishes. A Mother Confessor, a mate of Lord Rahl, a _warrior_… dishes.

Cara moved her aside, gently but firmly. "I'll do them."

"Cara, you're sick."

"Not that sick," Cara replied, resolutely eradicating all remnants of dinner from the cutlery. "Go to bed. You're tired. I'll stand watch."

"Stand watch?"

Cara closed her eyes. "Figure of speech."

In the real world, if Kahlan had asked her to do dishes, Cara would have a remark dripping with acid, a prod from her Agiel. Here, all she had was this thing compelling her to step between Kahlan and… dishonor. The dream was disarming her. It was like being broken, only she couldn't resist. It would grow and grow inside her until.

Kahlan.

Leaving the dishes undone, Cara went to the bedroom. Kahlan was curled up within the sheets, her hair caressing the pillow. It looked like another part of the bedspread, another form of satin. One more comfort to ease sleep.

Weak. Vulnerable. Delicate.

Why couldn't Cara hate her?

She got into the other side of the bed, under the covers and Kahlan's warmth.

Came to her.

Like the light off the moon, just when things should be darkest. Cara could feel herself pressed against Kahlan, warm and safe as her leathers, overwhelming the missing pain of her Agiels. Giving her balance. Making her normal. Secondhand knowledge? Or her imagination. Maybe really doing it would be better. Maybe she could put her hand to Kahlan's body. Just a touch. Just a taste.

Just once.

Everything was jagged and shattered and nothing hurt. She needed her Agiel. She needed a mission. She needed her Sisters, or her father and her mother and a home. She needed to stop crying.

"Hey." Kahlan was getting closer, her arms warm and white. In the darkness, they gleamed. "You okay?"

"Why me?" Cara asked. Her eyes hurt. "Even in this nightmare, you can do better than me. You can find someone who deserves you. Why do you have to torture me with… Why can't you just let me be what I am!"

There was a kind of hurt when Kahlan put her arms around her. And then it stopped hurting.

"I've never really felt. At home." Kahlan's voice was slow and halting. Cara had never heard her like that. Not when she wasn't talking about Richard. "I liked my parents. I liked my sister. But when I went away, I didn't feel homesick. I traveled, learning, and I never felt it. Then I came here. And I saw you. And you brought me home." Kahlan was touching her, protecting her. Cara was going to break. She was going to break open and she didn't know what would come out. Lips pressed against her collarbone, her clavicle, her throat, her heart. "This is my home." And having nothing left to take, Kahlan pressed herself to Cara's breast and stopped.

Cara laid awake a long time, feeling nice things and not worrying about them being taken away. Wondering if she could go back to being Kahlan's _friend_ when she knew Kahlan could make her feel like this. Knowing how Kahlan would bruise and blacken and burn if Cara ever tried to touch her.

But it was nice, regardless. It was nice.

She went to sleep…

And woke up. The bed was different, harder. She was naked, the air harsher on her than the gown had been. And Kahlan was gone.

Cara threw herself to her feet. Hair tickled her back. Her own. It had grown over the night. And her Agiel was in her hand, flooding her with sweet, familiar pain. It actually stung a bit, after all this time without.

She recognized where she was. The bed, the floor. Herself. She was in the Mord'Sith temple. She was home.


	3. Home is the place where it feels Part 3

Cara didn't bother to dress. She needed to find Kahlan. She needed to have Kahlan back in her arms, under her protection. Nothing else would do.

The déjà vu that had been deviling her since she'd woken up in Stowcroft now came into full bloom. Every step was one she'd taken a thousand times before, every face was a sister, every respectful "Mistress Cara" resonated in her head. Home, she was home, and she'd have to leave again _so don't get comfortable_. As soon as she found Kahlan, she was leaving.

There was Sister Raina. She'd always been so eager to please. Cara suppressed a tremor as the memory of Raina's efforts filled the void between her legs. "Raina," she called, and the young Mord'Sith snapped to attention. "Where is Kahlan Amnell?"

"Kahlan?" Raina wilted under Cara's stare, so she simply pointed instead of speaking. Cara didn't need her to clarify. Every Mord'Sith knew the way to the torture chamber.

"Your Agiel." Raina handed it to her. There was going to be blood. But it wasn't fair for some of it to be Raina's. She'd been a sweet girl once. Before she'd met Cara. "Wait here," Cara said emphatically, and marched on. There was an Agiel in both her hands now. She'd felt better in the past few days, but never more comfortable.

The door to the torture chamber was up ahead. It didn't hold sound in, but let the screams run free into the rest of the temple so all could know when someone had broken.

Her foot met the door and every drop of blood in her sang. Whatever this was, she would fight her way out of it or die trying.

The door hit the floor with a resounding clang. Kahlan was there. In Mord'Sith leathers, an Agiel in hand, the tip at the nipple of the woman hanging from the ceiling.

"Why Cara, you're just in time to help me discipline Triana. She said the most disrespectful things about you. She actually thought I would allow someone to besmirch the name of my dear sister." Kahlan paused to allow her eyes time to travel up and down. "Cara. You're naked."

Cara had never been more aware of that. Waking up from that night of chastity to Kahlan in Mord'Sith leathers – every inch of her, armored – was like stepping off a glacier onto the surface of the sun. She had never been more acutely aware of her own unbound hair, tickling between her shoulder blades in the most teasing fashion, whispering how they could be Kahlan's fingers, her lips, her tongue… her Agiel…

"You must really be gagging for it," Kahlan mused, stepping closer, so tall… it would be easy for her to toss Cara around, hold her down, they'd have to fight tooth and nail to see who'd be the mistress and who the slave. "But then, so am I."

Her hair was pulled, her body moved, and she was sucked into the kiss Kahlan gave her, crippled by the flash of teeth, healed by the little lick that went from the corner of her lips to the tip of her nose. And laid to the rest by the smile on Kahlan's face as she pulled back.

"Would you like Triana's assistance in dressing?"

Triana looked at Cara with one black eye. Cara could imagine the slap that had made that bruise, the perfect arc of it, the sizzling pain it had caused. Kahlan. "Please, Mistress Cara! Let me serve you! I'll be good!"

Cara squeezed her thighs together, stoking the heat just enough to live with it. "Very well. Cover me."

* * *

After dressing Cara, Triana went to the baths to be cleaned, with Kahlan leering at how the leather band around her hips stretched as she walked. "I think she'd make a suitable replacement, were Dahlia unable to perform her duties. Or perhaps we could get a bigger bed. It could be amusing, to see who could break their lover first. Or to be broken…"

Another kiss, another burning ember forced past her lips so it could add to the heat in Cara's groin. Why then did she keep thinking of waking up in Stowcroft, in the other Kahlan's arms?

"Girls, please. If there's anyone who would believe in business before pleasure, it should be a Mord'Sith."

Kahlan turned to the voice from the shadows. "Business is a pleasure."

The Lord Rahl stepped out of the darkness, the door swinging shut behind him. "I thought I'd find you here, Mistress Kahlan. And of course, you're never far from Mistress Cara. I have an assignment that requires your combined talents."

Mord'Sith never smiled, officially. Still, Cara could feel Kahlan's grin beaming at her from the corner of her eye.

The Lord Rahl was dressed in the robes of his office, but it was not Cara's Lord Rahl. Either of them. It was Richard. He'd aged, a full beard now cloaking his square jaw, his hair cut short, both shot through with gray.

"Our combined talents are at your disposal for whatever you require, Lord Rahl," Kahlan said in the syrupy tone Cara knew too well, the one she _offered_ with. To put a fine point on it, she put her arm around Cara's hips as she said it.

Richard shook his head. "I thought the Mord'Sith were supposed to protect their master. And if I did that, Queen Anna would kill me."

"Then we'll just have to settle for serving you more… indirectly." Kahlan's hand stayed at the cleft of Cara's hip and waist.

"Some Sisters of the Dark – a group, a school, a flock? – is using a village on the border to offer up human sacrifices to the Keeper. Those are D'Haran lives they're ending, _my children's_ lives. Go to the village and show them that the Lord Rahl rules D'Hara, not the Keeper."

"Your word, our Agiels." Kahlan bowed respectfully and Cara followed suit. Even if this was only a fever dream of the Lord Rahl, it still deserved her deference.

* * *

Kahlan watched as the sisters dressed each other. They'd selected ten Mord'Sith to accompany them, including Mistress Denna. It was overkill, but Cara wanted to be absolutely sure Kahlan wasn't going into a trap. "At last, a mission worthy of our violence," she whispered to Cara, her voice rough with arousal. "I don't besmirch the Lord Rahl his peacefulness… our talents were wasted on villagers and herd animals under Darken Rahl… but while keeping us in reserve increases the fear of us, there is a point where they forget to fear us. After today, they will all give us our due."

Cara kept staring at Dahlia and Triana, doing up each others' leathers. They were back. They were hers. And so was Kahlan.

"Are you crying?" Kahlan asked, aghast.

Cara hadn't. Her face had just scrunched up like it was going to try. "No." She squeezed her Agiel until her knuckles were white. "What did you say of Darken Rahl? What happened to him?"

"You killed him, of course."

"Tell me how. Again." Cara gave Kahlan the 'puppy dog look' she'd learned from too much time spent with Richard and Kahlan. "I love hearing your voice."

Kahlan smiled indulgently. "Years ago, we were given word that Richard Rahl's adopted family had died. We were sent by Panis Rahl to train him. He'd already taken up with a daft old wizard, so we were unable to be as… open with him as I'd have liked. Otherwise, he never would have fallen for that Brighton woman. Don't misunderstand, she makes an excellent queen… but she'd be a terrible Mord'Sith."

_Anna Brighton?_ Cara thought. _She'd married up._

"You didn't seem to mind, of course. You're selfish. You like having me all to yourself."

Cara's lips twitched. It was good to know that in any reality, her feelings toward Richard remained the same. As disconcerting as it was to continuously wake up with Kahlan wound around her, it would be much worse with the Lord Rahl. Or worse, Zedd. Although that young Zedd hadn't looked so bad…

"You practically threw Triana off me when you caught us together. And then… oh, Cara… I don't know what the bed did to deserve that." Her smile darkened in a way that spoke volumes. Cara felt her leathers clench around her. It was worse with them touching her constantly, like a lover pressed to her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, but at least it gave her one thin wall against Kahlan's stare. If Kahlan had given her that hungry look once more when she'd been naked, she would have thrown the Mother Confessor… the Sister of the Agiel down and had her way with her, even if it was at the feet of the Lord Rahl himself.

"After Darken Rahl killed his father, we knew it was time. Richard was named the Seeker of Truth and the True Lord Rahl, and so began the civil war. There were many in the military who'd enjoyed the peace of Panis Rahl's rule, and would not see it exchanged for war. They flocked to us. As did our sisters. Panis Rahl had given specific instructions that Richard would care for us, not Darken Rahl. It was a golden age for the Mord'Sith. Every day we dressed in blood, and every night we made each other clean. It was glorious. But all good things must come to an end. We laid siege to the People's Palace, and the two of us, the Lord Rahl's trusted advisors and teachers, were allowed the honor of infiltrating Darken Rahl's inner sanctum. You shoved your Agiel down his throat. In his pain, he shook so hard he broke his own spine. The weakling…"

Cara thought of life growing inside her. Thought of Dahlia's hand on her stomach, feeling a kick that made them both dream of birthing a powerful Mord'Sith. Thought of the silent tears that had broken out of her for days after the birth, when she realized she'd never see her baby again and that she'd never given him a name.

Darken Rahl had gotten off light.

* * *

They rode off with the Third Battalion, who would not assist them, but would make sure the Sisters of the Dark couldn't escape. This would be the Mord'Sith's alone.

It was glorious. The Sisters of the Dark put up a fight, and Cara took a cut or two, but it was only foreplay. They struck the Sisters down like lightning from the heavens, setting fire to their strongholds and letting their screams loose into the atmosphere.

Afterward… if a concept like 'after' could be applied to this, as if one stopped and the other began… Kahlan caught hold of Cara and there was something in her eyes, a subtle appreciation that differed Cara from her other targets, even as Kahlan came at her. Kahlan swung at her anyway, and Cara blocked, their Agiels meeting with a hiss of competing magic, and then Kahlan's hand was around her throat. She was even faster than she had been as a Confessor.

They could've fought. It would've been easy, and if this Kahlan were anything like Cara, she'd be satisfied by that. But Cara had spent too much time tasting and not swallowing, and her belly was long since empty. She thought to herself that she would stop Kahlan soon, after just a little indulgence… after the first kiss, or the second, or the teeth that left their mark in her throat.

Then Kahlan was stripping her leathers away, and Cara felt the nimble fingers of her sisters assisting. She had forgotten how good it felt to be of the Mord'Sith, her pleasure not only taken but magnified and reflected in each of her sisters. She thought that she would stop Kahlan soon after the brunette rubbed at her need, end it after just a few strokes, certainly before a finger slipped… inside…

Then she was screaming and Kahlan was smiling and sometime, after it was all over and the only sign it had ever happened was the blood under her fingernails and the smell that clung to her, Cara wondered if this was love.

Richard and Kahlan were in love, Cara thought, with less guilt than she should've felt. They hated to be alone when they could be together. They loved to touch and trust and share every moment, no matter how insipid. Cara didn't think she could do that. She thought about trying.

So Cara laid there, watching the houses burn around them. Kahlan was dressing, belts being buckled, her Agiel waiting to be picked up. The others had gone off to sweep the area once more. Even with the fires crackling, Cara could hear the sounds of nightfall – the gentler winds, the crickets, the occasional gar-call. She'd spent too much time with Richard… with all of them.

"Come here," Cara said when Kahlan reached for her Agiel, blocking her hand.

"Where?" Kahlan asked. She was standing over Cara.

"Lie down with me."

"Why?"

Cara didn't have an answer. "Because I asked you to."

Kahlan stared at her, and Cara understood the hesitation. She didn't quite know what she was asking for… something that Kahlan, another Kahlan, would know to give her. But this Kahlan was close enough to that one to see Cara's need, and lie down beside her, her rigid leathers making her look out of place on the full green grass.

Cara got closer to her slowly. It took minutes before they touched, just the toes of their boots as they laid parallel to each other. Kahlan met Cara's eyes. It wasn't Kahlan. It was a Mord'Sith.

"Can we get up now?" Kahlan asked.

"Yes. We should."


	4. Home is the place where it feels Part 4

In the baths, Cara scrubbed off the smoke and smell of blood that always seemed to get under her leathers. Usually she did that with some regret, but now she couldn't care less. It was just something to separate her from Kahlan.

Why did this Kahlan evoke such distaste? There was lust, there was always lust, but this was a Kahlan stripped of all the petty annoyances that made her a poor warrior. Her insane desire to reproduce. Her compassion for her enemies. Her complicacy in the Seeker's adventurism, and enjoying it like two children at play. She and Cara should've been inseparable, but the gulf between them was wider than ever.

"The Lord Rahl has need of us," Kahlan said. Her movements were as quiet as ever. She stood on the lip of the pool. Cara could've licked her boots. If Kahlan made her.

"Us? Does he want me to watch?"

"Richard knows my tastes run to the bitter. That's why he always uses Denna when the Lady Rahl requires a playmate."

There was always lust. That could be enough, couldn't it? To last her until this foolishness passed.

Cara dressed with Kahlan's aid. For such an intimate gesture, it was cold and indifferent when viewed through the prism of the last few months. Hunting with Richard. Stirring a pot for Zedd. Kahlan meeting her eye…

Kahlan tightened the strap on Cara's chest, then stepped back to await reward or chastisement. Either could bring pleasure.

"The Lord Rahl waits for nothing." Cara turned on her heel.

"Mord'Sith are not nothing," Kahlan said, following.

Cara was not sure she agreed.

* * *

"There is a threat to our way of life," Richard began, pacing in front of the ranks of the Mord'Sith. Cara and Kahlan were in the front row. The sight of her sisters united in service to Lord Rahl should've stirred something in Cara. It didn't.

Richard went on about the glory of D'Hara and the perfection of the Mord'Sith. What was it about red robes that made men turn everything into a lecture?

Although their hands were locked behind their backs, Cara rubbed her elbow against Kahlan. Kahlan took a step away from her.

"My lord," Cara said when Richard hit a stopping point. "Your words are appreciated, but unnecessary. Tell us the name of the town and we will tear it down with our bare hands."

Kahlan gazed approvingly at her.

"Stowcroft," Richard said.

Instantly, as though a venom percolating inside her had finally taken hold, Cara felt a pang inside her. She was used to pain, her mistress was pain. But this she couldn't placate, box up, or deny. It burned away everything that had happened since she'd fallen asleep in Kahlan's arms.

The Mord'Sith broke to go to their tasks, preparing slaves to carry their supplies, saddling horses, drawing up battle plans, researching their target in the great library of the Mord'Sith. Only Cara stood alone, motionless. The Lord Rahl looked at her. She turned on her heel and walked. Was it possible that in this dream, Stowcroft was an entirely different place than the one she shared with Kahlan? She had to find out.

Cara proceeded quickly to the stables, where the sisters were combing and feeding the horses. She grabbed one that had already been washed and saddled, and swung herself up on it.

"What are you doing?"

Cara looked at Kahlan. She looked thrilling and strong in her Mord'Sith leathers. But it wasn't Kahlan.

"I'm going to scout out Stowcroft."

"You'll come back to me?" Kahlan asked.

Cara nodded. One way or another, it was true.

* * *

She felt every jolt the horse gave her as she rode. Every brick of the road, every leaf of the tree, every song from the birds was more and more familiar. Though it was a day's ride, she didn't stop. She couldn't.

Finally, she spotted the village. The smoke was curling from the chimneys just as she'd remembered from her time with Kahlan, from her childhood. She dismounted at the edge of town… there weren't even any sentries… and led her horse in. It hit her in a wave how tired she was, like she'd taken a blow to the head, but she was Mord'Sith. Mord'Sith endured.

People stared at her as she walked through them. They looked at her with fear and caution, like she was a poisonous snake they weren't allowed to kill. There was the boy Richard, his grandfather Zedd. They didn't offer her a rabbit-on-a-stick.

She led the horse to the water trough in front of the inn, then petted its mane as it drank gratefully. It was good to know that at least the dumb animal liked her. She set out for the house she'd built with Kahlan. In a matter of moments, she was running.

When she found the manor, it was only a framework of a house, a skeleton. She walked between the beams, onto dry dirt outlined by joists. There was no one there.

"Kahlan… please…" she whispered to the air, to a Creator who hadn't made her as she was.

"Kahlan's back at the Temple."

Cara whirled, reaching for her Agiels. She was a little surprised to find them there.

The woman who spoke looked like her. She wore the trousers and tunic that Cara had worn in Stowcroft. There was even a knife hanging from her belt, the hilt the same as the one Cara had clung to when she'd been weaponless.

"She can be here, if you wish," the other Cara said. "You can be me, if you wish. But you have to choose. What is it you want, Cara?"

"Where's Kahlan?"

"I believe we've established you want her…" Cara lowered her head. "And what you want from her."

"Where is she!"

"I told you, she's where you want her to be. If you want her here, then she's out at the market. When she comes home, this house will be finished and warm with a fire, and she'll ask what you're doing in that ridiculous outfit. You can keep it. Sentimental value."

"And if she isn't?"

The other Cara crossed her arms. "Then this town is full of enemies. You can kill as many as you like and Kahlan will join you. And this house will stay as it is."

Cara held out her Agiel, pointing it at her reflection like a bow pulled taut. "This is an illusion. I don't know who you are, but you reached into my mind and constructed a world out of smoke and phantasms. Two Kahlans who both looked at me with love and affection? No. Not possible."

The other Cara smiled. "It looks real. It sounds real." She ran a hand down her bodice, tracing the path Kahlan had taken. "It feels real."

Cara smiled right back at her. "I'll tell you how I'm sure it's a lie. You gave me a choice. In the real world, I never have one." She turned the Agiel around and pulled it between her breasts. The pain was manageable at first. She forced it deeper, and the other Cara shook her head.

"Then you choose death."

The pain was growing. Cara concentrated on that. She shut out Kahlan, both of them. She shut out herself. Her heart was slowing. Her eyes were watering. She fell to her knees, and from there it was a short trip to the ground. She tasted blood, and could feel something equally warm coming from her ears, her eyes. Her body was breaking down, and she was dimly aware of her limbs rebelling against her. Nonetheless, she kept the Agiel pressed to her heart.

"You're a fool, Cara Mason." The woman, the one wearing her face, was crouched in front of her. "All you have to do is choose and you'll be happy!"

As always, the pain welcomed her back and filled the world with acid, dissolving all entanglements, all fears, all else. "You don't know me that well," Cara gritted out, and suddenly it was like the sun had come out from behind the clouds, replacing the shadows with light. All the magic in the world couldn't replace the purity of her Agiel.

A woman stood over her, but now she could see it wasn't Cara. It was Nicci. The ground she laid on was cold stone instead of dirt, and the sky was stalactites instead of clouds, but that was unimportant. Nicci had harmed Kahlan, harmed Richard, and threatened Cara's own life. The latter she could forgive. The former were inexcusable.

Her fist lashed out and caught Nicci in the eye, knocking her to the gray slate floor. Cara quickly took stock of her surroundings. A cave, obviously. She was naked, her skin discolored from the cold. Nearby, she could see her leathers and supplies laid out like meat at a butcher's, covered in the smoke from a half dozen bowls of incense, each burning a different color. Her Agiel was untouched, lying alongside the charred skeleton of her horse.

Cara scrambled for it, smelling roasting flesh and hearing Nicci say something unimportant. Magic roared in her ears, energy filling the cave so completely she could taste it on her tongue. She hit the ground, its rocky contours digging into her flesh, and got a hand around her Agiel. The pain clothed her, armored her, but she didn't take a second to savor it.

She turned to see Nicci on her feet, her skin glowing like it was on fire. Magic shot out of the sorceress, but Cara raised her Agiel and they crashed together. It was like the cave was full of fire, but Cara walked right through it. Her legs were needled and clumsy from disuse, and her arms were leaden, but when she hit Nicci, the sorceress fell.

Cara fell to her knees, this time able to appreciate the hard rock under her legs, and shook the last of the spell from her head. She was cold and hungry and hurting. Perfect.

"Why?" she demanded, putting the Agiel to Nicci's throat.

"The Lord Rahl ordered me to punish you for your treachery. He seemed to be under the impression that without you, the Seeker would be easy pickings."

Cara jabbed the Agiel into Nicci's throat. Just because she could. "Flattery won't get you anywhere." She pulled the Agiel free and let Nicci writhe. "Why didn't you just kill me like the horse?"

"I put you in a dream, made you bring yourself to me. While you slept, you couldn't protect yourself. It was the only magic that could work on a Mord'Sith."

"So why not a nightmare? Why not make my life a living hell?"

Nicci laid back. She was crying. "We're a lot alike, you know. Forced into a service we didn't understand. Abused. Broken. Raped. The spell was meant to be a paradise you would never leave. It was the least I could do, sister. Why couldn't you have just chosen? You could've lived a long, happy life, right there on that floor."

"I am not your sister. And without duty, there is no happiness." Cara grabbed Nicci by the throat and cracked her head against the rock. It didn't kill her… she'd save that for later… but it freed up Cara's hands to dress herself and eat some of the cured meat in her pack. It tasted like nothing.

Nicci made a certain sense. She had tried to give Cara what she wanted. A Richard she could protect, but who wouldn't compete with her for Kahlan. Kahlan as more than a sister, more than a bedmate. But she had no way of knowing Cara had two dreams, splitting her right down the middle.

An hour later, she heard the shouts of the others. "In here!" she called, and then there they were, rushing in to greet her. Richard wrapped her up in a hug, and Kahlan didn't wait for him to let go to pet her hair, and Zedd crossed his arms and looked pleased.

"We're here to rescue you," Richard said when he stepped back.

"I got bored, so I decided to rescue myself. Hope you don't mind."

Richard smiled and got out of Kahlan's way.

"When we saw you were gone, Zedd felt the presence of powerful magic," Kahlan said, clasping Cara's hands. "Between that and Richard's tracking, we followed you here. We were all so worried…"

"You don't need to worry about me," Cara said. "All she could've done was kill me."

Kahlan squeezed her hands before letting go of them.

Richard was kneeling before Nicci, checking her pulse. "She's still alive. Zedd, is there some kind of prison that could hold her until she's… less confused? If there isn't, we'll have to find a way to divide her Han among the Sisters of the Light."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Zedd asked.

"We've had our differences, but maybe now that the Keeper has been defeated, they can get back to serving the Creator instead of their own ambitions and fears."

"How magnanimous of you, Seeker," Nicci said.

Cara heard something shatter. She turned, Agiels held up, but they couldn't do any good against the stalagmite that Nicci had hurled at her from behind. All she could do was turn so her arm and its padding took the brunt of the impact. She felt the clean snap of the limb as she rolled with the attack, letting herself be thrown to the ground.

Even with her eyes closed in pain, she could see the flash of the magic that hit Zedd and knocked him across the cavern. She opened her eyes and saw Nicci wheeling on Kahlan. Cara didn't know how she did it, but even as the magic gathered like thunder before lightning, she was lunging from where she'd fallen and bearing Kahlan away from the bolt of fire that carved away the air behind them.

Rising above the sound of the opposite wall exploding from the miss was the ring of the Sword of Truth clearing its scabbard. Richard stepped in, his blade slicing through the air, cutting a thin line of blood from Nicci's chest even as she threw herself backward. Another pillar of fire danced from Nicci's hand, and even though Richard blocked it with his sword, the force of the magic propelled him across the floor like a flat rock skipping over water. He hit the opposite wall, screamed as his back touched the molten rock that the first bolt had left.

"Richard!" Kahlan cried, trying to jump up, and Cara pressed her back down.

Richard stepped away from the wall, his vest on fire from the brief contact, and centered himself. Nicci smiled. She turned her magic toward Kahlan and Cara, who held herself in front of the Confessor, her Agiel in her good hand. Richard broke, running to protect them, and with her other hand Nicci drew a dacra from inside her robe. It spun, end over triple end, toward Richard.

"Wizard's fourth rule!" Zedd shouted and in mid-stride Richard turned, his sword flashing out to catch the dacra like a lumberjack chopping down a tree. The dacra shot backwards, and as Nicci blinked, it embedded itself in her ribs.

She looked down at the dacra, glowing as it began to sap away her powers, then looked up at Richard. "Thank you," she said, before the dacra ripped her Han away along with her life. Nicci collapsed. Her skin turned gray. Richard went to her, silently closing her glossy eyes.

"Cara, you can get off me now," Kahlan said, and Cara rolled away, eager not to be touching anymore.

Zedd trudged up to them, rubbing his back. "It just goes to show you, wizard's fourth rule. Always be on guard."

Richard completed the circle, helping Kahlan up. "I thought the wizard's fourth rule was seeing the unseen."

"Well…" Zedd looked from Richard to Nicci. "That's a good rule to remember too." Richard was kneading his temples, and Zedd put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you feeling alright, boy?"

Kahlan's concern was with Cara, who sat against a stalagmite, rubbing her arm. "You're hurt," Kahlan said, and pulled off her backpack to get a sling. Cara put her Agiel away. As she swathed Cara's broken arm, Kahlan glanced around at the magical apparatuses Nicci had assembled. "What'd she do to you?"

Cara looked at her. Smooth porcelain skin. Long dark hair. Eyes that seemed to pull away the bad from you so they could only see the good. "She tortured me."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm Mord'Sith," Cara answered.

"Interesting news, everyone," Zedd announced. "By deflecting the dacra back into Nicci, Richard has retaken his Han!"

"That's good news, right?" Kahlan asked, and Cara nearly chuckled at her naiveté. It was like she hadn't been paying attention all this time.

"Not yet," Richard said. "There's still the small matter of my head exploding."

"You don't have to worry about that," Zedd said. "It would be more like your brains leaking out your ears. Fortunately, with the underworld sealed once more, we have time for me to formally train Richard."

"I don't suppose this training can be done in Aydindril?" Kahlan asked, already rueful.

"Or at a beach?" Cara added.

"I'm afraid not. We'll have to return to Hartland, where I left my wizard's rock. It's the only thing that can control Richard's Han during the learning process."

"You'll like Hartland," Richard assured Cara. "It has an amazing hunting ground, excellent fishing, and it's the only place in the New World where you can get proper spice soup."

Zedd was already rubbing his stomach.

Kahlan had finished tying Cara's arm into a sling. "Then why are we waiting while the Lord Rahl's brains are in danger of escaping his ears? Lead the way, Seeker."

She stood, with a little help from Kahlan, who patted her injured arm in a way that made it seem to hurt less, a way Cara could never replicate. "You can ride on my horse until we can purchase you a new one," Kahlan said.

Cara nodded tightly, letting it mean nothing to her, and set off with her friends on another quest. She had the ability and the opportunity to protect them from harm. That was more than enough for her.

There were certain truths to a Mord'Sith's existence. To Cara's existence, the truths were these: A Mord'Sith could kill anything. The Lord Rahl loved Kahlan. Kahlan loved the Lord Rahl. And in another life, where Cara was a blacksmith and Kahlan was her wife, she was as happy as she was being a Mord'Sith.

Some truths mattered, some didn't. Cara's truths were fantasies. The all-important, all-consuming truth was the Lord Rahl. She loved him as a master. He loved Kahlan as a woman. And there was no room in there for fantasy.

She would keep telling herself that until she didn't need reminding.

It wouldn't take long. A Mord'Sith could kill anything. Even love.


	5. Journey Part 1

The wagon train stopped just before nightfall. Richard had found a camping ground for them, halfway between the road and a brook. Perfect, just like him. The pilgrims broke out the campfires and food, and since _the Mother Confessor and the Seeker were in love_, all the troubadours and bards told love stories, competing to see who could make Kahlan swoon hardest. It was like the whole world was trying to get Richard laid.

Cara sped away from the heat of the fires and into an abandoned wagon in back of the train. As soon as she was alone, Cara eased her broken arm out of its sling and rubbed at her pain points, dulling the ache. It was embarrassing that she found a fracture so intolerable. But to get back to the Westlands, they'd joined up with a wagon trail of pilgrims to Amphil, a university town on the D'Haran side of the Boundary where aspiring wizards and theologians could study the section of the Underworld that served as a wall.

As annoying as the idea was, Cara had to admit it wasn't all bad. The pilgrims were happy to share their food, so none of them had to suffer through the meals of the cooking-impaired. And some of the pilgrims were quite attractive. But sitting in a wagon all day let every imperfection in the road make its way to her break, and it _hurt_, insidiously, insistently, slowly creeping under her skin like Kahlan Amnell…

Why'd she have to think of _her_? She'd nearly gone a whole day without thinking of the Confessor, and the dream Nicci had put her in, and the things she'd done in that dream that still made her loins scream for attention. If Cara's pleasuring arm weren't broken, and if she weren't not supposed to be thinking of that, it'd almost be a preferable alternative to those quite attractive pilgrims.

"Cara?" It was Nans, one of the students headed for Amphil. She was young, just out of her teens, with a slim, lanky body and bright eyes that practically chirped. And for some reason, she was head over heels for the Mord'Sith, who tolerated it because Nans's definition of love was waiting on Cara hand and foot.

"Yes, Nans?" Cara asked, a bit less sharp than she would've been with someone else. If Nans had the good judgment to want her, that should at least be encouraged.

"The Mother Confessor is looking for you," Nans told her, starstruck by Cara's celebrity, hobnobbing with _the_ Mother Confessor.

Cara waved her hand idly. "Show her in."

Kahlan was already there, pulling back the wagon's curtain and jumping in. "There you are." She turned back to Nans. "You may leave us."

The girl hurried off.

"I was beginning to think you were hiding from me," Kahlan said, sitting down across from Cara. "But I don't know why you wouldn't want a fresh poultice. The pain must be…"

"Manageable," Cara informed her. "Like all pain."

"And unnecessary. Like all pain." Insistently, Kahlan set down the jar of clay she was holding under her arm. Next she pulled a mass of bandages from her pack.

"You're wasting your time. I'm healing fine on my own." Cara was already taking her arm back out of its sling and gingerly pulling her glove off, for Kahlan's benefit if not for her own. "Wouldn't your time be better spent serving the Lord Rahl?"

Kahlan blushed and Cara rolled her eyes. How was it that they could be doing it that much and still be embarrassed by it?

"_Richard_," Kahlan corrected Cara for the thousandth time, "needs to concentrate on his studies with Zedd."

"And you make it hard to concentrate?" Cara smirked.

Kahlan smirked right back. "I make it very hard."

Cara laughed at the double entendre, but quickly shut her mouth. That had been a chuckle, almost a giggle. And it'd been too much like the banter she'd had with Kahlan when they'd been married. Which, since it had _never happened_, she had to stop bringing up.

Kahlan unlaced Cara's sleeve for her, so much like a Sister of the Agiel, and Cara held her other hand very still so it didn't do something foolish like traipse through Kahlan's hair, or grab her by the throat and pull her close.

"The others are under the impression that you prefer I change your poultice," Kahlan said by way of conversation. Gentle as a Mord'Sith could never be, she worked the leather sleeve up Cara's arm.

"Zedd has to teach the Lord Rahl. The Lord Rahl has to learn. You have time to waste."

Kahlan took Cara's fingers and squeezed them, flooding her with warmth. A Confessor's touch… "You're not a waste."

Cara pressed her lips together as Kahlan sliced through her old bandages, exposing her pale arm and the red inflammation where the break was under the skin. Kahlan looked mournfully at it. Knowing her, she probably thought that if she'd been a little faster, she could've spared Cara the pain. Cara wished Kahlan wouldn't think that, even if it were true.

Cara knew what would come next. Kahlan would dip the bandages in the mud, really a foul-smelling potion that was filled with the nutrients Cara needed to have soak through her skin, and then would wind them around her arm with the care and patience that Kahlan turned toward all things. This time was different. This time, Kahlan bent forward and kissed her arm before dipping the bandages.

"Did that hurt?" she asked, suddenly looking at Cara with concern.

"Yes," Cara said. Not in the way Kahlan meant, of course. Not in the way Cara could stand.

"I'm sorry. My sister used to do that for me when I had a boo… when I was hurt." Kahlan smiled sheepishly at Cara. "Every little bit helps, right?"

Cara smiled back at her before stopping. "The sooner I am healed, the more service I will be to the Lord Rahl."

Kahlan wrapped Cara's arm, nice and tight. Then she left, to sit at the Seeker's side and drink wine and be loved, in a tender sort of way that would leave no bruises, no blood, nothing of Cara's trade.

* * *

They set off early the next morning, Kahlan with that ineffable smugness she always got after a night with Richard, and Richard enjoying his celebrity a bit more than modesty would dictate. The cattle drivers who brought up the rear loved listening to his stories, even if he glossed over some of the more intimate details of Cara and Kahlan. Cara didn't know why no one pestered Kahlan for stories of escaping from the Margrave nearly single-handedly, or saving the Seeker a dozen times. Did they find Richard's voice more pleasing than hers? Peasants.

Richard set a hard pace, even if the pilgrims didn't notice when (in his stories) Richard was in the middle of battling a pack of shadrin. He must've picked up some raconteuring from Zedd, because Cara remembered the pack as three shadrin, one of them sick. At mid-day, they stopped at the Grassy Fields Inn, which true to its name had plenty of room for the oxen to graze and drink. It was more properly a small fort, with three different taverns, a smithy, and a maze of stables within the high woodcut walls. Cara picked the shabbiest-looking tavern and stepped in to be greeted with a miasma of drunkenness, tobacco, and violence.

She scanned the crowd, but none of them were really her kind of people. She had standards, and if it came to a fight, none of the patrons could lay a finger on her. She checked out the bartender… too old… and then spotted the barmaid coming out of the backroom, slinging a thick helping of meat and potatoes. Her hair was coarser than Kahlan's and her breasts weren't as high, but she'd do. She'd do nicely.

It didn't take long for the barmaid to notice her, not in her leathers. She came by, bold as you please, to set down a cup and what passed for eating utensils, then poured Cara the house beer. Cara risked blindness for a sip. The barmaid was eyeing Cara, eyeing the valley between her breasts. Cara liked it.

"What's your name?" she asked, before the barmaid could begin her spiel.

"Ashlin," the woman said.

Cara huffed in amusement. "You must be tired. From standing on your feet all day," she said, her voice slyly insinuating, putting Ashlin on her back. "Why don't you sit down next to me and we'll discuss what I can have. To eat."

It was a dark corner of the tavern. The bartender wasn't paying attention to her, not when the dancing girls were trying to shove away a drunkard. Ashlin sat down.

Cara wasted no time, her hand under the table, pulling up Ashlin's skirt and squeezing her thigh, hard enough to let her know who was in charge. "Tell me about the meat," Cara ordered, her voice still honey-soft as her fingers climbed into Ashlin's bloomers. "Is it particularly tender?"

All Ashlin was doing was whimpering, but a little scratch along the inside of her thigh brought her back to earth. "It's… very tender."

Cara leaned closer to her, her fingers exploring more, like Ashlin's pleasure was written inside her folds and Cara could read it with her fingers. "Sweet?"

Ashlin's hands were callused and rough and squeezing the edges of the table like if she didn't, she could be sucked down. "Very sweet!"

Cara grinned as her hand abandoned Ashlin. She had a feeling the barmaid would protest if that wasn't almost more than she could take. Her fingers glided upward, now under Ashlin's blouse.

"I like my meat dripping with juices," Cara hissed as her hand reached Ashlin's breast and twisted the nipple roughly. "Is it dripping?"

Ashlin could only nod with little annoying gasps coming out of her.

"Go to the backroom and take off all your clothes."

Cara finished her beer, taking her time. She could almost smell the frustration, the need wafting off Ashlin. Finally, she stood, and sauntered over to the backroom. When she opened it, Ashlin was spread out on a rug, her clothes scattered. Open and vulnerable and needing. It was almost too easy.

Cara closed the door behind her, blocked it with a cask. Then she walked to Ashlin, but didn't join her on the floor. She waited for Ashlin to get up, then grabbed her by the hair, holding her on her knees.

Cara only had one good arm, but it was enough to hold the woman's head between her legs, and then to part the woman's own thighs and conjure up her moans. An hour later, Ashlin was too tired to continue. Civilians. No stamina. Cara worked herself to completion once more, staring at the marks she'd left on the barmaid's flesh… the teeth in her shoulder, the nails down her back, the fingerprints bruised on her thighs, and then prodded Ashlin with her foot until she got up and helped Cara dress. Ashlin fell asleep again against Cara's leg as she looped Cara's belt, and Cara shook her back down onto the rug.

* * *

At the night's fire, Cara sat and warmed her hands, wondering if Ashlin had woken up yet. After their time together, the bumpy ride of the wagons hadn't been so bad. She watched Richard leading Kahlan by the hand, doubtlessly just back from doing some softhearted chore for one of the hapless pilgrims. They stopped in the light and warmth of a fire to kiss and Cara watched closely, as if there were a trick in it. Then Richard folded Kahlan up under his arm and guided her along, coincidentally toward Cara.

"…and in exchange for the salve for Dieter's knees, I've got wine befitting a Mother Confessor. So that's steak, salad, wine, and you… I think that's just about everything we need for a romantic dinner."

"What about you?" Kahlan replied, giving him a playful shove. "I thought Zedd needed you to do more meditating?"

"Kahlan," Richard whined, holding her a little tighter. "Don't you know I hate meditating on an empty stomach?"

Kahlan nimbly removed herself from his arms. "And I hate boyfriends whose brains leak out their ears. Come on. Do it for me. Dinner will keep."

Chagrinned, Richard watched her go. "The second course will actually go bad," he muttered, half to himself, before sitting down beside Cara. Her Mord'Sith leathers cut her a wide berth, so they had the fire all to themselves. "You're my favorite lady."

Cara grinned humorlessly. "You should count yourself lucky to have such a beautiful woman worried over you."

He shook her shoulder. "Two," he corrected her. "And before I forget, I made you something."

He pulled a book from a pouch on his pocket. It was about the size of a diary, with a pen secured in the spine. Cara examined it. "It's blank."

"It's a journey book," Richard explained. "Zedd has me making them by the dozen. I thought you could use one, in case we ever get separated."

"Strategic thinking, my lord. Perhaps you'll be worthy of the Mother Confessor yet."

Richard raised an eyebrow at the barb, but dismissed it a moment later as Cara being Cara. Cara, for her part, gripped her Agiel in self-imposed punishment.

"Cara," Richard said after a while of listening to the fire crackle, when a few of the families had gone to sleep. "I can take care of myself. I killed Darken Rahl without your help." She looked at him. "Mostly. Almost. Anyway, I have Kahlan and Zedd. They're not going anywhere, but you…" He looked at her for a long moment. "Is this what you want to do with your life?"

"What else is there?"

"Everything?" Richard ventured. "You could travel the world, do what you like, see your family—"

"You are my family."

Richard stared at her, more shocked by that than the insult. Cara gripped her Agiel hard.

"Cara, is something wrong?"

_Tell him_. The voice in Cara's head sounded almost like Kahlan. _He'll make everything right, make everyone smile, or at least send you away where you can't do any harm._

She couldn't risk it.

"I haven't had a decent fight in weeks," Cara told him. "I think we're running out of D'Harans."

Richard patted her on the back – why did he have to be so touchy-feely? He should save that for Kahlan – and got up to…

"Meditate," Cara reminded him.

* * *

Another day closer to Hartland. Richard's headaches were getting worse. Zedd was making hori tea, the only thing that soothed them. Cara watched carefully as he went through the preparations. Anything that brought the Lord Rahl comfort she was duty-bound to know.

When they came to a stop, Richard was immediately in the carriage Zedd had purchased, the one with mystical lines and magical curios all over it, making it look more like a circus tent then a wagon. Zedd gave them a reassuring smile as he closed the shutters, but Cara had been around long enough to know when someone was smiling only because he was broken. As she looked over at Kahlan, rubbing her arms, blinded by hope, all she could think was _I could be there for her._

Maybe she was going a little mad. Her Lord Rahl was dying by degrees and she couldn't protect him.

She sat down by the fire. Her arm hurt. She couldn't remember the name of that barmaid, or the taste of her sweat, or the flush of her blood. She sat by the fire and didn't get warm.

Kahlan sat down beside her.

It was just like treating a wound. You had to ignore the pain first, then tend the bleeding, then stitch it up. That was how to deal with Kahlan. Like a wound. She might as well be.

"He'll be fine," Kahlan said. Of course, she was talking about Richard. "I don't want you to worry." It had the flavor of an order.

The fire blazed, revealing nothing but shadows all around them. They still had a wide berth from humanity. Cara wondered if it was just her, or if people were afraid of Kahlan as well. She'd heard the rumors. That if the Confessors saw a man they liked, they just took him under the guise of reproduction. It was ludicrous, of course. The Confessors were born of men who had already been confessed, and were given a second chance to serve as the husbands and fathers they could've been. Cara actually envied them. At least they could give Kahlan something other than pain and tawdry sex.

A sniffle claimed Cara's attention. She looked at Kahlan, who gave her a watery smile before burying her face in her hands. Cara stared at her like she was a whistler about to go off. Then, as painstakingly as if she were climbing a mountain, Cara scooted across the log to her and laid an arm across Kahlan's bent shoulders. Kahlan immediately threw her arms around Cara, an embrace that was painful in its intensity. Cara patted her on the back. Kahlan was warmer than the fire.

At last, Kahlan detached from Cara and scrubbed the tears from her face with the sleeves of her dress. Cara nodded to herself. Job well done.

At length, they stared into the fire, while in a wagon nearby, Richard tried to grapple down the force growing inside him, threatening to consume him. Cara could sympathize.

"How's the sex?" Cara asked, hoping the inappropriate old Cara act would break the tension. And she was curious.

Kahlan looked at her, her nose still snotty from the tears. "What?"

Cara pulled a handkerchief from one of the pouches secreted in her leathers and held it out to Kahlan. If they were good enough for blood, they were good enough for the Mother Confessor. She waited for Kahlan to blow her nose, then repeated. "How's the sex?" She added: "With Richard."

"Oh, it's…" Kahlan didn't blush, so maybe she was finally getting used to the prospect of being a fallen woman, but a dreamy little smile did occupy her face. "It's fun. He's a very fast learner."

"Good," Cara nodded. "He's found the spot under your ear?"

Kahlan looked at Cara, boggled, an expression the Mord'Sith quite enjoyed.

"He likes to kiss me there, how did you…"

"Mord'Sith are trained to identify the pain points on someone's body as soon as we see them in motion. The pleasure points correspond to them."

Kahlan laughed, clapped her hands a little, and Cara tried not to grin back. "Sounds handy."

Cara shook her head, a smile having gained a foothold on her mouth. "Think about it. Would _you_ like to know Zedd's pleasure points?"

Kahlan laughed again. Cara laughed with her.

Kahlan took Cara's hand and placed it on her own leg, where she wouldn't lose track of it. She gently stroked the back of Cara's hand. Cara was glad for the leather. Kahlan couldn't see the goosepimples rise.

"You're lucky," Kahlan assured her. "Anytime you see someone attractive, you can just… have them."

"It helps if they say yes," Cara replied, eyebrow raised.

Kahlan put her hand down atop Cara's, sandwiching it to her leg. "Who would say no to you?"

Cara said nothing.

"You know what I'd really like?" Kahlan took her hand off Cara's and brushed some hair out of her face. "I'd like to live in a normal, boring house and work a normal, boring job…"

"Like a teacher?"

"Sure. I love kids." She yawned. It was late, and it'd been a long day, and worrying about someone you loved was tiring. Or so Cara heard. "And Richard could be a woods guide and you could live next door… that'd be perfect. But it's never going to happen, is it?"

"No."

Kahlan reached into her pack, and Cara saw one of Richard's little journey books as Kahlan took out a blanket. She offered it to Cara, wrapping it around her. Cara felt overwarm, like she was too close to a fire.

"Stay with me tonight?" Kahlan asked, pleaded. "Richard's headaches are getting worse and he's trying to pretend it's alright, but I don't know if we'll get there in time and… I don't want to be alone tonight."

Cara didn't reach for her. Didn't kiss her. But she stayed as close as she was. "You're never alone."

* * *

Mord'Sith didn't remember their dreams. They were trained not to. The dreams you got when you did what the Mord'Sith did were not things to be remembered. But the dream Cara had that night she remembered, every scream (her own), every smile (Kahlan's), every stitch of leather that Kahlan wore and every welt that she raised across Cara's bare skin. And finally, her smile as bright as her wet, red lips, Kahlan moved the Agiel between Cara's legs, where she needed it most.

Cara awoke too hot for her leathers, too hot for the blanket covering her. She threw it off and Kahlan, sleeping under the same blanket, shivered. She'd been enshrined within Cara's limbs, somehow covered in whole despite her frame being longer than Cara's. Cara stopped wondering why she had remembered the dream of Kahlan throwing her to the ground and taking her like a prize.

Her eyes darted frantically as Kahlan shivered once more. The fires had died down to embers and the only noise was crickets and the occasional snorer. They were alone, and Kahlan was whimpering.

Cara put her arms around her once more, feeling Kahlan's flesh, her warmth, like a needle through her leathers. She couldn't stop herself. Her lips fit against the back of Kahlan's neck, beneath the cascade of dark hair that had filled the sleeping bag with its sweetness. Kahlan's lips quirked in her sleep; a smile. Cara kissed her again, no longer brief or fumbling. She attached her mouth to Kahlan's throat and worshipped it with her tongue and lips, pulling away only to leave a red mark.

Kahlan was moaning, purring, deep within her breast, and Cara heard the same sound coming from deep in her own throat. Kahlan tasted pure, like water from a spring. Cara bent down again, vampiric, to kiss the pleasure point below Kahlan's ear. It earned her a fond gasp that trailed off into a name.

"Richard," Kahlan breathed.

Cara closed her eyes. Her good hand traveled over herself, stirring up sparks wherever it went, until she finally found her Agiel. She had set it under her pillow to keep from hurting Kahlan. She let the pain fill her until it replaced the shame.

She went to sleep still clutching it, turned away from Kahlan. In the morning, she didn't remember her dream.


	6. Journey Part 2

Cara's arm was feeling better. Kahlan rubbed it a few times, tenderly, before bandaging it up again.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Cara said.

Kahlan looked at her. "It's still weak. I want you to be careful with it. We'll exercise it some tonight, okay?"

Sometimes, Cara had the hateful feeling that Kahlan spoke to her the same way she would to a small child. "Fine."

When they got under way, Cara went up to one of the horsemen hired to guard the caravan and told him she wanted his horse. He quickly gave it up. She used both hands to hold the reins, and her injured arm ached, but it felt much better than lying in a wagon all day.

Richard didn't make an appearance.

* * *

"Men coming up the road, on foot!" Cara called back. She was in front with three other riders, half a mile from the first wagon. For the last week, all the scouts had managed to scout was a flooded bridge. This was new.

The twenty wagons all readied themselves for battle, either by gathering up the people stretching their legs outside and getting under cover, or by picking up the weapons brandished on the outside of the carriages. Even without the Banelings, the Midlands were a dangerous place.

Cara got off her horse and drew an Agiel in her good hand. One of the riders said "Ma'am?", but she ignored him. It wasn't as if she could control a horse and swing an Agiel in her current condition. Besides, for all their fearsome magic, Agiels weren't exactly a cavalry weapon. Cara would've given a night with Triana for one of the Mord'Sith's collapsible poleaxes in her saddle just then.

A moment later, Cara raised her hand to signal no threat, although Kahlan had to explain this to the civilians. It was just a band of Flagellants, only five-strong. They'd popped up more and more since the Boxes of Orden were destroyed, penitents who believed that the Creator had torn the Veil herself because she was displeased with mankind. Cara had always thought that if the Creator were angry, she'd be a bit more efficient with her wrath, but then, she guessed she wasn't the religious type. Either the Creator would accept her into her bosom or not, it didn't change the fact that she had to do what was necessary.

Upon seeing the pilgrims, the Flagellants reacted as well. They stopped in the middle of the road and lit a thurible, letting the foul-smelling smoke irritate the wounds they made flogging themselves. Cara sneered as they whipped their backs with knotted cords, trying to work up enough blood to taint the white veils that covered their bodies. Amateurs. More than that, every time Richard saw them, he got all quiet and broody for the rest of the day. As if he hadn't suffered enough to find the Stone of Tears.

They spoke in unison, punctuating each verse with a whip across their back. "Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours."

"Catchy," Cara replied, patting her Agiel against her free hand. "Now get out of the road. 'Master Rahl' would like to pass." Mindful of Kahlan's constant attempts to smother the people with goodwill, she added "Please."

"The pretender is here?" one of the Flagellants asked. It was a woman, her breasts unattractively scourged. "Then you must be his Mord'Sith slut, Cara."

"Yes, I am his Mord'Sith slut," Cara replied. "Get off the road."

"Repent!" an older male Flagellant cried, the cue for Cara to roll her eyes. "The breaking of the world is nigh! The tearing of the Veil was merely the first portent! But Darken Rahl has returned to spare us from the wrath of the Dream Walker! All you need do is ask to return to his loving embrace and he will protect you!"

There was a limit. It was at the end of Cara's Agiel, pressed into the man's gut. For a Flagellant, he had little tolerance for true pain. "Darken Rahl is going back to the Underworld, very soon. Would you like to wait for him?"

"Cara? What's going on?" Kahlan asked, walking up. She was holding her hands stiffly, and Cara recognized she had her daggers reversed so they were hidden by her forearms.

Cara turned to face her, ignoring the Flagellants. "Just some of Darken Rahl's followers, who've managed to avoid taking the hint. Can I kill them?"

"For what? They haven't done anything."

"General principle?" One of the Flagellants to her back pulled a knife from his boot and tried to rush her. Cara broke his jaw without looking back.

Kahlan looked out at the Flagellants and smiled benevolently. "I'm sure if you'd be kind enough to practice your religion on the side of the road, I can persuade Cara to not kill you all."

* * *

The caravan passed by, ignoring the sullen stares of the Flagellants as they tortured themselves. One of them flicked the blood off his scourge and onto a wagon. It was Richard's.

* * *

It was funny how one mundane encounter could convince people that the next would be equally harmless. Everyone was laughing and kidding each other about their suspicion, to Cara's irritation. She was also irritated that she'd tried to talk to Kahlan about the Flagellants and Kahlan had just hurried back to Zedd's wagon, and Richard. Then she wondered if Richard was on his deathbed and Kahlan was trying to spend as much time with him as possible. If the Flagellants had cost them time that they could've spent getting the Lord Rahl to safety. The next Flagellants she saw, she was killing on sight. Kahlan would just have to live with it.

The attack came at dusk, magic hour. The fading sky lit up with an arrow as it came down, skewering one of the scouts. Pointlessly, it was a flaming arrow; the fire spread up his tunic as he crumpled to the ground, dead. One thing Cara would say for Darken Rahl, at least with him there'd been some professionalism to the raiders and bandits.

At least it was combat. Cara was off her horse, using it as cover until the bandits got closer. Her bow-arm wasn't strong enough to pull and she wasn't carrying her quiver. She should've found a crossbow. _Stupid, weak, soft girl._ She'd have to wait for the bandits to bring themselves to her Agiel…

Another arrow hit, this time the horse. The arrowhead sunk deep into its neck, and one look confirmed it was a mortal wound. Good tactic – maim the horses so they would wreck havoc within the enemy ranks in their death throes. Cara would have to take note of it. She put the horse out of its misery with one application of her Agiel to its heart, then slunk down behind its corpse.

She could hear the twangs of the caravan's archers responding and, more distant, the flare of wizard's fire. She also heard hoofbeats. Gauged ten riders, leading more on foot. It must've been a company of D'Haran troops gone rogue, preying on trade routes. Cara unslung her arm from her neck and wrapped the sling around her healing arm, then drew an Agiel in either hand. The perfect pain flowed up both arms and she was whole.

She was in fine form that day, outstanding form. As the first hooves hit the road, Cara put a leg on her fallen mount and lunged off it, driving the horseman from his saddle with her forearm. The Agiel in her other hand made sure he stayed down.

Behind him were four swordsman. Only the first bothered to attack her. She stoved his head in and was already onto another as he fell, jamming her Agiels up under his armpits so the magic could course into his heart. Three bodies now surrounded her, and she stayed within the triangle they formed as the last two attackers in her proximity eyed her warily. They saw she was dangerous, but also that she was walking wounded. So she struck first, bending the bearded one over with a kick and then stabbing her Agiel into the back of his neck.

The last one attacked her with a shortsword and she blocked, but it was a feint. His fist swung at her injured arm and Cara braced herself for pain, but it never came. Kahlan was there, her scent filling Cara's nostrils. She had caught the bandit's arm, and now broke it. As he fell to his knees, Cara put her Agiel to his temple until his bloodshot eyes rolled back in his skull.

Cara nodded her thanks to Kahlan and the Confessor smiled back. Then she was hurrying off to save some children from a quad of tattooed slavers and all Cara could smell was the burning pitch of the arrows.

She killed twelve more that night. It didn't satisfy her.

* * *

It was like something was burrowing under her skin. Like an emotion, only deeper. She remembered watching the glow of night wisps being born, how cool and comforting it had been to share that feeling with Kahlan. Now she saw Kahlan bringing a platter of food to Richard's wagon and something dug out her heart.

"Nans!" she called, only looking at the girl after Kahlan had disappeared into the wagon. "I'm cold. Why don't you get me some more firewood?"

"Sure!" Nans looked out at the woods. The canopy was heavy and the moon was slim. "But… it's dark."

Cara stood. She smiled ferally. "I'll protect you."

* * *

When the fires were out of sight, Nans took Cara's hand. When they kept going, Nans pressed herself to Cara's side. Cara bore it with amusement. They kept walking, until the camp was a distant memory.

"I don't think I can see well enough to gather firewood," Nans said. They were in a copse so thick that the tree trunks were like a colonnade, and the starlight that made it through the leaves only hinted at their bodies. Nans could still see Cara's teeth as the Mord'Sith pressed up against her, pinning her to mossy bark with a cold leather hip.

"The dark is more interesting," Cara drawled, with the voice Nans had dreamed of.

Nans nearly hyperventilated as Cara untied her dress, starting with the drawstring at the neck and then brusquely working it down her torso and off her hips. Another perfectly vicious shove and Nans felt bark digging into her back. She heard her dress flutter as Cara tossed it aside.

"Cara, it'll get all dirty," she protested.

Cara worked her hip just so, and somehow she was in-between Nans' legs and it was making fire travel up her spine. "We'll tell them we were attacked by wolves," Cara said, doing it again and again. "Savage, ravenous… hungry for our flesh…"

Nans was bucking, trembling, trying desperately to meet every snap of Cara's thigh because she knew it would be so _good_. Her eyes were fluttering, because it felt so good she had to close them, but she wanted to memorize every curve of Cara's rapacious expression too. "Cara…"

Cara kissed her. It made the inside of Nans' mouth feel like an erogenous zone, like Cara was touching a pleasure point that only she could find. "Call me mistress," she said, suddenly in Nans' ear, taking advantage of how Nans had to shut her eyes to process what Cara was doing between her legs. Then she licked Nans' lips from corner to corner, her dark eyes meeting Nans' wide ones all the while.

"Mistress, may I touch you?"

"How?" Cara's hand crushed down on Nans' breast, filling it with sweet agony. The heat only stoked the fire in Nans' core. "Like this?"

"Yes!"

Another staccato rhythm from Cara's hips, driving Nans wild. Then she stepped back and the cold drew goose pimples from Nans' flesh. "Take off everything."

Nans unwrapped her brassiere as quickly as her clumsy hands could manage, then stopped out of her bloomers. She stood up straight, thrusting her chest out, like she'd always been taught boys liked. Cara liked it too. She ran a hand from Nans' face down to her chest, the leather making her nipples harden like a molten sword struck by water.

"Are you a virgin?"

Nans bit her lip. "Yes." She reached out and boldly touched Cara's breast, feeling the nipple through the leather and tweaking it. She thought she saw a smile on Cara's face. "But I'm not very good at it."

Cara put a hand on Nans' chest, between her breasts, and almost gently pressed her back against a tree trunk. Then she pressed harder, making the bark dig into Nans' back. "I know your type. You go your whole life, trying to do as you're told, trying to make yourself feel something with boys who are about as attractive to you as dogs. You want to tell them how to please you, but you don't have the words and they don't have the ears. Then, as luck would have it, someone like me comes along… and you finally know what you want. You want me to fuck you. Isn't that right?"

"Yes!" Down there, Nans was so hot and slick that it was _cruel_ of Cara not to be inside her, a finger, a tongue, one of those devices she had only read about. But she was a Mord'Sith, and their cruelty was feared throughout the land. Feared and desired.

Cara's thumb was just touching Nans' areola, and Nans was so sensitive that when Cara rubbed, Nans felt a stitch at the end of the glove scraping her. If Cara would leave her and let her touch herself like she had so many nights before, it would still be the greatest pleasure she'd ever known.

Cara's fist was in her hair, pulling it so hard Nans didn't know how it didn't come out, making her bend her neck. "Because you're a little whore, aren't you?" Cara's breath was coming hot and fast on her exposed neck, and Nans was whimpering for more. "That's what you want. You want to be my slut. You don't want a husband or kids or a happy little home. You want _this_."

Nans cried out as Cara's teeth came down on her throat. She jerked and danced at the end of Cara's will, and involuntarily her arms grabbed as much leather as she could touch and held Cara close. "I want it, I want it bad, oh please mistress…"

Cara let cool blood spill from the bite and spun Nans around, then jammed her against the tree. Nans felt the sharp bark embrace her, her breasts, her knees, her cheek. _Growling_, Cara forced her legs wider apart. Nans was still talking, still telling Cara she wanted this, she needed this, and Cara almost cared.

"Whore," Cara said as she forced two fingers inside Nans, and felt more than heard the scream that reverberated from her body. She thrust half a dozen times before she curled her fingers and Nans screamed again. It sounded a little like "more". Cara took her hand away and grabbed Nans' hair with it, marking it with blood and juices, and then flung her to the ground, where Cara could pin her down and give her what she wanted. What she deserved.

"You're not a virgin anymore," Cara purred in her ear, gentle now. There was no more need for roughness, now that they understood each other. "You're mine."

It took some firm guidance, and more than a little negative reinforcement, but Nans proved a very good pupil.

* * *

"Cara?" Kahlan stepped between the trees, the starlight glinting off her drawn daggers. She'd heard screaming, then moans. And Cara had been gone a long time. She feared the worst.

Then a cloud passed from in front of the moon and she saw everything in its silvery light, like statues that had frozen over. Her mind took it in in brushstrokes, like a painting being made before her.

Cara's magnificently nude form was sprawled in the roots of an tree, gripping Nans' long dark hair in an outstretched hand like a puppeteer held strings. Sweat glinted on her whipcord-taut body, but at the same time she appeared completely in her element, at peace, almost in meditation. Her golden hair was tangled with leaves and twigs, plastered to her forehead with sweat. A lock hung down her face, nearly touching her parted lips, Cara's panting breath battering the blonde wisp to and fro.

Beneath her, astride her, Nans supplicated herself. She knelt so that Kahlan could see the flatness of her backside. Even in the darkness, it glowed with red soreness. What hair wasn't in Cara's hand was scattered across Cara's lap like a napkin, while Nans' head trembled furiously between bronze thighs, like she was a glutton for the taste of Cara. The Mord'Sith herself moaned and purred and keened her approval, and signaled her disapproval with an almost tender brush of her Agiel down Nans' writhing back. Kahlan could already make out a collection of welts.

"Kahlan," Cara breathed, her eyes still closed as if she were an opera lover immersed in music. "You shouldn't be out so late. There are beasts roaming the woods."

"Mother Confessor," Nans said, jerking up and trying to figure out the best way to prostrate herself.

Cara touched an Agiel to her dangling breast. "I didn't tell you to stop."

"Mistress!" Nans gibbered as she returned to kissing every inch of Cara's folds.

Kahlan had her hands on her hips. Shock had given way to exasperation. "I was worried about you."

Cara drifted back, smiling lazily as Nans found a sweet spot. "As you can see, I'm fine."

Kahlan refused to be intimidated by Cara's sexuality or game-playing. It wasn't like Cara was 'the sinister Mord'Sith' anymore. She was Cara Mason, trusted friend and ally. And it wasn't like Kahlan was a virgin now.

"Could you finish this up and come back? I can't get to sleep worried about you."

Cara opened her eyes to slits. Kahlan, her white dress seeming to glow in the night, had crossed her arms under her breasts. It made them that much more prominent, and she eyed every pore as Nans licked away. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? You can't rush art."

Kahlan met Cara's eyes; even in the dim light she could see those eyes, darker than the forest around them. They stared at each other, the sound dying down until Nans might not have even existed. And for a moment, it was just like old times, the days when Cara expected to find a dagger in her back or Kahlan an Agiel at her throat. But neither of them had ever backed down from each other, and Kahlan watched like a benevolent deity as Cara shuddered, teeth squeezing together in a snarl, eyes closing in ecstasy, one hand petting Nans' hair favorably as she came. Her expression relaxed as the orgasm cut through the tangle of the sex; it looked to Kahlan as if she might shed a tear. Then Cara stood up, leaving Nans to collapse lovingly at her feet.

She stood across from Kahlan, hands on her bare hips. "Care to help me dress, Confessor?"

"I think I've helped you enough for one night," and though she wouldn't show it, Cara tensed at those words. Had her excitement at being able to watch the Confessor as she was devoured been that obvious? "If you need an audience that badly, we should charge admission. Raise some money for the poor."

Relieved, Cara walked closer. She wanted to see if Kahlan would break; look down to see how wet she was. "Nans," she said, giving the girl the toe of her foot to rouse her. "Dress me." Cara never stopped looking at Kahlan.

The Mother Confessor merely reached out and brushed some of the detritus from Cara's hair. It was a sisterly gesture, and it hurt like the flames of the Underworld. "You're incorrigible," Kahlan said fondly, running her hand down Cara's cheek.

Cara said nothing.

Kahlan turned to go and Cara watched the sway of her hip as she did, eyes hungrily detailing the curve of her ass. When Nans put Cara's boots in front of her, Cara put a foot on her shoulder and pushed her to the ground.

"I didn't say we were finished."


	7. Journey Part 3

As they walked back to camp, Cara kept her hand at the small of Nans' back, straightening her and occasionally traveling over the welts, reminding them both of how they'd been earned. "Soak a cloth with apple cider and rub it on your back," Cara said just before they emerged from the woods. "So they won't scar."

"Thank you, mistress."

"Call me Cara," she replied easily.

"Can we do this again?" Nans asked. "Cara?"

"Unless someone better comes along."

Nans smiled. She thought Cara meant for her.

As promised, Kahlan was sitting by one of the guard fires. None of the other sellswords were there. So, they were afraid of the Mother Confessor. It cheered Cara somewhat, that they were both demons in someone's eyes.

She sent Nans on her way with a firm slap on her rump and sat down beside Kahlan, hands on her knees. Kahlan looked at her, as if she were checking to make sure Cara was totally dressed now, and removed one last twig from her hair.

Cara looked at her sidelong. "I haven't traumatized you, have I?"

"Doubtful." Kahlan prodded the fire with a stick. It rustled appeasingly. "I can't get to sleep."

Cara looked over at Richard's wagon. It was still locked up tight.

"Can I ask you something?"

Kahlan put the stick down and faced Cara. "Anything."

Cara paused before asking, considering her words longer than usual. She couldn't be misunderstood here. She couldn't be vulgar. "If a while ago, if it'd been possible for you to be with someone… but it couldn't be Richard… would you be with him?"

Kahlan thought about it. Cara watched her brow furrow. It had to be hard, to be that beautiful, have that much stamina, and not be able to share it. Especially with Richard there, looking the way he did, romancing her the way he did, seducing her every time he saved a life or made a friend. Would it be so bad to have an emotional relationship with Richard and leave the physical to others, people less worthy, people who couldn't be despoiled by a touch?

"No," Kahlan said at last. "I think I would rather be Richard's, completely and totally, then split between him and someone I don't care about."

Cara felt her Agiels brush against her hips as she shifted. The sting was acute. She wanted to be cruel to Kahlan, to snarl at her like she once had. To tell her that sharing would give her more love, not less. But she was a Mord'Sith, and what'd passed between her and her sisters hadn't been love.

So instead she just said "You and I don't have a lot in common."

"We have the important things," Kahlan said, her arm outstretched to wrap around Cara's shoulders. Sheltering her as usual. "Richard…"

Cara jerked away from Kahlan's arm like it was a flame, standing, looking down at Kahlan. "Sometimes I really wish we could have one conversation without talking about Richard."

"If he dies, I promise not to bring him up!" Kahlan snapped, and instantly turned her head, regretting it, biting her tongue like she was trying to punish it.

Cara fell to her knees before her, hurriedly gathering Kahlan's limbs up in something like an embrace. "Forgive me."

"No, I'm sorry. I just _got_ him. This was supposed to be our happy ending. Like a fairy tale…"

"I know," Cara said, and kissed Kahlan.

It was brief and transitory, Cara not even knowing she had done it for a second. It was almost as if Kahlan had kissed her instead. They parted and Cara kissed her again, her mind working faster. She needed to savor this, to capture a memory before Kahlan recoiled, as disgusted with her as she was with herself. But Kahlan didn't push her away. The kiss deepened and Cara ripped her glove free of her leathers, the laces tearing free of the eyelets, so she could stroke Kahlan's hair with bare skin.

"I…" Cara couldn't speak. What was there to say, when she was touching Kahlan like a lover, kissing her like a common whore. "I will comfort you. Mother Confessor."

Kahlan said nothing. She sat there, pressing together her kiss-bruised lips, staring at Cara with eyes that would have to be pitch black to be harder to read. Cara wiped the tears from her eyes with her bare hand, felt the moisture sink into her fingertips. Like poison, in a way.

Cara kissed her again. Kahlan moaned into her mouth, and somehow her arms wrapped around Cara.

"I don't like it when you're sad," Cara said, her forehead pressed against Kahlan's. "It makes me sad. I don't know why."

"Cara…" Kahlan said. She was crying again.

Cara kissed her, the third time, maybe the fourth. It was hard to tell. Like they'd been approaching each other for weeks, months, and only now had their lips met, and everything in that moment would have that breathless excitement.

"Cara… _stop_."

Cara did. She didn't jerk back, or push Kahlan aside, or kiss her again regardless. She knelt there, motionless, as Kahlan drew back.

"I love Richard," Kahlan said.

Cara kept carefully still. Like there was a ravenous beast that would fall upon her if she moved. "You think I don't know that?" She shook her head. Pain brought clarity. It always did. "I was just trying to help. That's all."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you… I shouldn't have let myself… by the Spirits, Cara, I could kill you. Without the protection of love, my magic would destroy you."

It didn't sound like a bad deal to Cara, just then. "I can handle you, Confessor. I always could."

Kahlan smiled a little. "Thank you. For trying. You're a very good kisser."

_Shut up shut up shut up._ "Thank you." Cara stood. "If I'm not going to have sex, I'd better get some sleep. It'll take my full attention to keep these idiots from riding off a cliff tomorrow."

"Pleasant dreams," Kahlan said as Cara fled, as naturally as she could.

She didn't go to sleep. She spent the night fitting a new glove onto her leathers, breaking it in by curling and uncurling her fist until it felt like her very skin.

* * *

Scouting out their route the next day, miles ahead of the other scouts to keep from their hateful attempts at conversation, or their more hateful silences, Cara saw a strange rock formation on the side of the road. She dismounted and cleared it of vines and sheets of moss. It was a roadside shrine, a statue of the Creator. It didn't look anything like Maia.

Travelers were supposed to leave offerings at it. The next caravan would take the offering and leave their own. So if someone had clothes to spare but needed food, the Creator would provide. Cara sneered at the whole concept and went back to her horse.

Then she stopped. She took her foot out of its stirrup and walked back to the statue. Then she punched it as hard as she could. Ignoring the singing pain in her knuckles, she circled the statue.

"Richard tells me that the things I did as a Mord'Sith weren't my fault. That's what they all say. If that's so, why are you punishing me? I never wanted to feel these things, especially not for Kahlan! She's self-righteous and condescending and completely obsessed with Richard! Well, whatever your plan for me is, it's not working. I hate her."

Her eyes felt hot and cloudy. Tears. So that's what they were like. Cara strode back to her horse and tried to mount it, but her feet wouldn't obey her. She ended up with her arms around its neck, her face buried in its mane. The horse neighed and licked her face. Cara pushed it off and then stood there for a moment, petting it. It probably just wanted to taste the salt of her tears. She went back to the shrine.

"I don't know how this works, but if you don't take Richard away from Kahlan, I'd consider us even."

She left her ruined glove.

* * *

She rode back, wondering if Kahlan would be waiting to hear her report. She'd slipped out before Kahlan had awoken. Or maybe Kahlan was awake, but nestled inside a wagon, listening to Richard's dying words. Cara wanted to be a stone.

But she didn't meet the other scouts, and the caravan wasn't where it was supposed to be. Cara rode faster.

When she saw the caravan, Cara breathed sharply. Sorcery. One of the wagons was thirty feet in the air, spinning fast like the Creator was dangling it from a twisted string unwinding. From the stenciled spells covering it, Zedd's. Cara dug her heels into the horse's flanks and rode. She knocked down the guards when they didn't stand aside fast enough, jumped a little girl, and finally clattered to a stop beside Kahlan. She dismounted and had her Agiels out before her boots touched down. Kahlan looked at her. Tears of happiness.

"Cara," she said, "it's Richard."

The wagon came down, its spin slowing until it did a half-turn against the ground and stopped. Richard stepped out, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this magic business," he said.

Kahlan threw her arms around him and they kissed for the requisite amount of time. Zedd got out of the wagon as well, but looked green, and Cara rolled her eyes as he ran off to vomit.

Richard and Kahlan stopped procreating and looked around, although they still cuddled like baby birds. "Cara. It's amazing. I can see the magic of your Agiels!"

"What's it look like?"

"…red."

Cara nodded tightly. "I'm glad you're alright. Kahlan would've missed you."

Richard beamed at her like a little kid and Kahlan beamed at her like a proud parent. "I have to show you something," he said to the Mother Confessor, and with his arm linked in hers, he started to lead her away.

Cara grabbed Richard's arm. He turned. "And I would've missed you," she said.

"Thank you, Cara." He slapped her heartily on the shoulder. "How's the arm, by the way?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

* * *

The next morning, Richard pointed out the Ven Mountains, a mountain range that ran through the Boundary. "We're close," he said. The four detached from the rest of the caravan, who were taking a hard left to Amphil.

A few hours of riding later, they saw the mountains continue unbroken into the horizon, far past the Westland landmarks that Richard had grown up with. The sky was so blue it was like the color green had never been invented. "The Boundary's gone," Richard said. He brought his horse around to face Zedd. "What does that mean?"

Cara cut short the wizard's theorizing. "Trouble."

* * *

Of course, they couldn't leave it at that, so Zedd talked at length, Richard looking confused or concerned as the conversation required. Cara dismounted and led her horse to a nearby brook. She fed it a sugar cube too, in case it hadn't just wanted to lick her tears.

The horse drank and Cara stood there, watching the water ripple with sunlight. She wanted to be alone.

Kahlan, as usual, had no care for her wishes.

Cara saw her first in the water and didn't turn as Kahlan got closer, until they were standing together. Kahlan was leading the other horses to water. Typical.

"I'm sorry if I forgot you for a little while there," she said. "It's just Richard… in all the excitement…"

"I understand. The Lord Rahl needs a heir and your child-bearing years will end soon," Cara needled.

Kahlan's face contorted, trying to decide if she was offended or not. Cara took it out of her hands.

"Why aren't you up there, finding out exactly how we're all going to die this time?"

"Oh, whenever Zedd starts spouting off about powerful magic, I just zone out and think about what dress I'm going to wear at my wedding," Kahlan joked.

"I always suspected."

Kahlan sat down, pulling her boots off and resting her feet in the rolling waters. One of the horses nipped at her toes and she gave it a playful kick. Cara stood beside her like a shadow.

"We need to talk," Kahlan said when Cara's silence proved inexorable.

"What's to talk about?" Cara asked, her hands clasped behind her back, her tone challenging in its subservience. "I wanted to serve the Lord Rahl by caring for you. That's all it was."

Kahlan looked up at her. "We should still talk about it. I know you, Cara. You never do anything you don't want to do, not anymore."

Cara felt a burst of anger. Not a Mord'Sith's anger, cold and useful. This was big and unwieldy and ugly. All she did was things she didn't want to do. Look but not touch, fight but not win, hate but not hurt. "You're wrong… you don't know me at all. And you won't, because I'm a woman of blades and pain and blood, and all you do is talk!"

Kahlan stood. She was ridiculous, her wet feet traipsing in the grass. "I talk?"

"Yes! That's all you ever do! But I'm not surprised, it's worked out so well for you. All you had to do was wait and Richard found his way into your arms."

Kahlan's hands were on her hips. Cara wished they were on her daggers. At least that language she spoke. "You have no idea how hard it was, having to see him everyday, but never able to be with him-"

Cara thought she would kiss Kahlan. Or maybe that Kahlan would think it was an attack, push her away. But Kahlan just stood there as Cara wrapped arms around her, pulling her tight, holding her like a child clinging to a stuffed animal. She was warm and sweet-smelling and after a moment of Cara's chin digging into her shoulder, she embraced Cara in turn. "Oh, Cara…" she said delicately.

"I have every idea. Had…" Cara broke off from her. "I wanted to do that." She mounted her horse, jerking it away from the stream. "Don't follow me."

* * *

Cara didn't know how far she was going to ride. She didn't have a plan. She was leaving the Lord Rahl unprotected. But it felt so good to have Kahlan at her back, smaller and smaller.

Then she saw the figure stumbling out of the woods and onto the grasslands, looking exactly like the kind of wretch Kahlan would give a waterskin and a hug to. Cara spurred the horse faster.

She'd been a wretch once.

Cara circled around and pulled up to the figure. It was a woman, but everything else about her was hidden by the cloak she wore.

With her arm healed, Cara could draw her bow easily. "State your business."

"Cara?" Nans pulled back her hood. "It's me."

* * *

She was thirsty. Keeping up on foot with horsemen, even when they were going at a trot… it was no wonder.

Cara let Nans drink from her canteen, saw her relish it. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were going to Amphil."

"You were leaving."

Cara rolled her eyes. "Be very specific about your plan."

"I'm coming with you!" Nans must have _felt_ the derision coming off Cara, because the Mord'Sith kept her mouth carefully shut. "I know I can't fight like you can, but I can tend to your horse and bring you food and anything you need, I'll do it…"

"Nans," Cara interrupted. "You have a scholarship. The University of Amphil is prestigious. Why would you want to give that up?"

Nans blinked. "Because I love you. I know what you're going to say, that I'm too young to know what love is, that I'm not really in love…"

"No. I believe you. But you're old enough to know it doesn't matter." Cara looked at her. Forced herself to watch the tears begin. "Love doesn't conquer all. Love doesn't fix people. Love _cuts_. Sometimes it's like a surgeon, cutting out the dead parts of you. But more often, it just cuts."

"Then you don't love me?" Nans asked, her voice still trembling with one last clinging hope.

"I don't love anyone. I can't. Nothing personal."

Nans got up. Turned. Her shoulders shook. She started walking back. She was surprised when she felt Cara's hand on her shoulder.

The Mord'Sith pulled her close, petting her hair as she wept, whispering in her ear "Someday there'll be someone. She'll look at you and feel all the things you feel about me. And she'll feel the same way. She'll be lovely and smart and she'll even like doing those things to you," Cara ran a finger over her face, soothing, teasing, "just as much as I did." She let Nans go. "But it might take a while."

* * *

Kahlan caught up with Cara at the edges of the woods. Cara was still standing there, staring at the brush that Nans had disappeared into. Her horse was resting its head on her shoulder.

"I was worried," Kahlan said, explanation, apology, love letter.

Cara didn't turn. "I love you."

Kahlan got closer. Warily.

"When Nicci took me, she made me dream a perfect life. Gave me… something I didn't know I wanted. I wasn't a Mord'Sith. You weren't a Confessor. We were together…"

"You don't want to be a Mord'Sith?"

Cara shook her head. "I am a Mord'Sith. The next dream I had was of us both in the leather, serving Richard. But whenever I was happy, I was with you." She looked. Kahlan's eyes were downcast, her lips a thin line.

"Why me?"

"Isn't it obvious? All those years of doing my duty, of hurting people, of being hurt. Then you come along and you're kind to me. You care for me. You protect me." Cara pulled herself closer. "You're beautiful. You fight like a Screeling, not just in battle, but for anything you care about. Or anyone. You're there for me. No one's ever there for me. So I love you." Cara bit her lip. Folded her hands together like she was squelching something within them. "But you don't love me."

"I do. Not like that, but I do."

"I know. That's enough."

Cara got back on her horse. It was time to go back.

Kahlan put her hand on Cara's boot, giving her pause. "I'm sorry. If I led you on. If I hurt you."

Cara shook her head. After all this time with Kahlan, she could still be confused. "You saved me."

Kahlan smiled at her. It was a nice smile. Cara liked seeing it, even if it wasn't always for her.

Then she heard the horsemen ripping out of the brush.

"Behind me," Cara said, drawing her bow.

"Like hell," Kahlan said, holding her throwing knives by the blade.

The red made it obvious that the riders were Mord'Sith. But as they got closer, Cara recognized many from her temple. Berdine, with Raina riding close by as usual. Rikka. Hally. And in the lead, a collapsible poleax in hand but not extended, Triana.

"Mistress Cara," she said in greeting.

Cara kept the bowstring taut, but didn't loose. Following her lead, Kahlan spun her daggers to keep her grip fresh.

"Triana," Cara replied. "What do you want?"

"The same thing I've always wanted. To serve the Lord Rahl." Triana dismounted, as did her sisters. Then they knelt on one knee, exposing their necks to any collar that might be placed on them. The deepest respect a Mord'Sith could pay. "Mistress Cara, command us. Show us how to best serve Richard Rahl."


	8. We're a long way from home Part 1

Dahlia loved birds. There were just so many of them, and they were all different. Some of them never seemed to flap their wings at all, just floating along like little clouds, and some of them flapped their wings hundred of times in a blink like they were waving hello. There were red ones and green ones and blue ones… not like the other animals, which all seemed to be some mix of black and white and brown. And they sang!

In the morning, while Dahlia got dressed and ate breakfast and performed her devotional to Lord Rahl, there were dawn birds sweetly chirping. Then when she'd run over to Cara's house, she'd hear the cry of hawks as they helped the hunters find food out in the woods. Finally, after a long day of chores and play and chores that they made into play, there was the soft lullaby of the owls. Dahlia stared out the window at one as she brushed at the nightgown Cara had let her borrow.

With her mother out of Stonecroft making a dress for the wedding of Lady Dulc, Dahlia could stay at Cara's house as long as she liked! She could even sleep there. And if the nightgown wasn't as comfortable as her own, at least it smelled of Cara – that unique scent that seemed to be equal parts sweet flower and bitter cherry.

Cara and Dahlia were jumping on the bed when Cara's father spoke from the washroom, where he was shaving his beard. He always shaved at bedtime, so that when he woke up he had a dusting of stubble on his jaw. Cara's mother liked it. She said it made him look rugged. Cara thought it must itch.

"Cara, are your chores all done?"

"Yes papa!" Cara called, bouncing up and down.

"Did you use the bathroom?"

"Yes papa!"

"Are you jumping on the bed?"

She stopped. "No papa."

"Alright then." Cara's father stepped into the bedroom, his cheeks still glistening. He tucked Cara and Dahlia in, inspecting the sheets like a custodian before going to the lamp. "Goodnight then."

"Wait papa! What about a story?"

Cara's father paused. "You want a story?"

"Yes papa!"

"I knew I was forgetting something." He closed the lamp back up and the candle flame seemed to flicker happily in its glass prison. "What story would you like? And remember, it has to be something Dahlia will enjoy."

"Nothing scary!" Dahlia insisted.

But for Cara, the story had been picked out for a long while. "Tell us the story of Kieran and Viviane, and the wizard Amfortas, and the evil Count Alron, and, and…"

"Do you want to tell the story or should I?" Cara's father sat down on the bed, moving when he sat on Dahlia's toes. "Sorry, I'm not used to two little girls under the covers. Now then, how did that story start…"

"It was a long time ago!" Cara reminded him, dying of excitement.

"Oh yes. A long time ago, before the House of Rahl rose to power, or Aydindril had even been erected, the Midlands were so chaotic that they stretched from the Old World to the new. Warlords fought over every scrap of land and speck of gold. And the worst of them all was Jagang, self-styled emperor of the world."

"Did he kill people?" Dahlia asked, looking queasy.

"Yes, did he?" Cara demanded.

"He killed lots of people. Him and his band of war wizards were feared by the stoutest of hearts, for if any dared to oppose them, he would erase them from history with a chainfire spell so that not only were they defeated, but they had never fought at all. Even the Wizards were scared, but they were wise in their fear. They knew that the time had come to name a new Seeker."

Cara beamed. "This is my favorite part," she whispered to Dahlia.

"They sent a young Confessor named Viviane. She searched long and hard for someone worthy of the Sword of Truth. It took many moons, but finally she stopped at a little farm in Nicobarese. The farmer was a young man, all alone since his parents had died in the war. But from what little he could harvest, he gave freely to Viviane, even though she kept her hood over her face so that he would not be tempted by her beauty. To ensure he would not miss her when she left in the morning, for the greatest torture to the lonely is a friend withheld, she was rude to him, constantly complaining about the smell of the barn and the taste of the food and the state of the house. But Kieran, who was the young farmer, knew it was a ruse, because she never said one wrong thing about him. Then at dawn, she set out. She had just gotten around the first bend in the road when a pack of raiders set upon her. They were Shado Rahl's men!"

"Shado Rahl?" Dahlia asked. "Really?"

Cara shushed her.

"She Confessed the first man who dared lay a hand on her, but there were four of them and he could only strike down one before he too was overcome. The other two soldiers were big and mean and smelled of rotten fruit. They drew their blades, and Viviane drew hers. She apologized to the Seeker who she would never find, for she had failed to bring him the Sword of Truth."

Dahlia was desperately grasping Cara's arm.

"Then who should appear on the road but young Kieran, riding his gray old pack mule as fast as it had ever gone. Even though Viviane had shown him nothing but disdain, he fought to the brink of death to defend her. Together, they wiped out the last of the quad and Viviane realized that only a Seeker could have such compassion. She showed him the Sword of Truth, which she had carried concealed in the back of her cloak the whole time. Then she told him that the Sisters of Light had received a new prophecy from the Creator – that only a Seeker of Truth could defeat Emperor Jagang. He, Kieran, was to be that Seeker!"

"And he just went with her?" Dahlia asked, trying to regain a little face from squeezing Cara's arm so intently. "What if she was a phony?"

"Ah, but to show him the sword, Viviane had to take off her hood, and that was how Kieran saw that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. It was also how Kieran fell deeply in love with her."

"See?" Cara asked. "Pretty people can't be evil. The Creator wouldn't go to all the trouble of making a nice face and then put a rotten soul in it."

"But did Viviane love him back?" Dahlia insisted.

"Of course, dum-dum. You can't be that in love without someone feeling the same way."

Her father was shaking his head. "I'm going to have to find a new bedtime story. Something with a moral."

"Please don't, papa! We'll be good!"

It took an hour to properly tell the story, since Cara's father had to do all the voices and act out all the fights and he was always remembering things that Kieran and Viviane did as they went about their quest, like crossing the Swamp of Tears or fighting the Beast of the Maze or answering the All-Riddle to get the Great Sage to stop menacing towns with his tests. Usually Cara was asleep by the tragic, romantic end, but with the excitement of Dahlia staying over, she could hear every last word.

"And so, with his last breath, Kieran sent Jagang to the Underworld for all eternity and waited for Viviane to find him. In life, so should it be with the Spirits."

"This is my other favorite part," Cara whispered to Dahlia.

"Count Alron's forces had been scattered and Shado Rahl had died from confession, but there was still one more task before the Confessor. She knew she was dying, but she had no thought for herself, only for him, the man she loved. With the last of her strength, she stumbled to where Kieran lay still, as if in sleep. 'My quest is finished,' he said, 'but I am dying.' 'Then we die together, as it should be,' she replied. Their deaths were witnessed only by the great wizard Amfortas. He picked up the Sword of Truth, knowing he must keep it hidden until the rise of a new Seeker, who might also be asked to die a glorious death."

"But what if Jagang got out?" Dahlia wondered after Cara's father had left and they were supposed to be asleep.

"Don't worry," Cara said. "I'll protect you."

They pulled the covers up over their heads so they could talk without someone eavesdropping on them.

"I saw a Confessor once," Dahlia said. "She had hair all the way down to her waist. I wish I could be a Confessor and have hair like that."

"And not be able to touch anyone, like Viviane? No, I'd be a Seeker, with a sword that could cut through anyone. My dad told me, not tonight but he told me, that once Kieran saw a princess in a tower and the tower was too tall to climb so he cut the tower down with his sword and then he and the princess kissed."

"Wouldn't she get hurt falling down all that way?"

Cara thought about it.

"Poor Viviane," Dahlia said. "So in love, and she couldn't even give him a hug."

"I think they could hug, they just couldn't do that other thing. You know… _kissing_."

"You ever wonder what it's like to be kissed?"

Cara, who was drowsing off, got a look in her eye. She had, in fact.

She kissed Dahlia quickly, but like she'd seen her parents do instead of on the cheek (which seemed like a much more intuitive place to have a kiss anyway, since with their mouths all smushed together Cara had no idea what to do with her tongue). But however clumsy it was, however quickly it was over, Dahlia had her own look in her eyes. Like she was committing it to memory.

"Like that," Cara said unnecessarily, burrowing into her pillow in the universal gesture for 'talk later, sleep now'.

"Cara, what do you really want to be when you grow up?" Dahlia asked, wondering if Cara might answer 'housewife' so she could say 'me too'.

Cara thought about it. "Probably a hairdresser."

* * *

Triana didn't bother to change facial expressions as Cara cut off her braid. She kept that look of smug superiority with each follicle Cara cut. When the braid was piled up on the floor, Cara tucked her knife into her belt and stepped back in front of the Mord'Sith. "I've been waiting to do that for a long time."

The cave was damp and infested with bats, the only light coming from the torch Cara had brought. She'd driven a tent spike through a stalactite and hung Triana from it, naked. Usually when doing this kind of disciplining there'd be two bands around her, one at her cleavage and one at her crotch, enchanted to have the most interesting effect when the prisoner became aroused, but Cara didn't have the equipment. And she didn't think it would be necessary to get into that.

"I deserve that," Triana said.

"You deserve worse." Cara took out her Agiel and watched Triana's eyes light up. It was torture, of a kind, to show her the pain and not give it to her. "So, now you've gone from wanting to destroy the Seeker to wanting to serve him. You're sending very mixed signals."

"Darken Rahl is no longer worthy of our services," she said tersely.

Cara walked around her, enjoying the way Triana's eyes tried to keep up with her. She didn't spend too much time behind Triana's exquisite back. She didn't like letting Triana have the anticipation of a blow. "You followed Darken Rahl as he plotted to deliver the world to the Keeper. What could he do to make you betray him?"

"Something worse," Triana said, and her eyes when Cara walked in front of her were downcast. "He's going to release Jagang."

"Emperor Jagang? A myth?"

She looked up. "A cold, deadly reality. And I will not be a slave to that man, that thing's, appetites. The Seeker will fight him. And we will fight with the Seeker."

Cara got closer, her hand around Triana's throat. One wrong word and she'd snap it. Triana knew it too. She smiled.

"The Seeker will never allow us to break another child. We're the last of the Mord'Sith. None who follow us will even be able to touch our Agiels. That doesn't bother you?" Cara demanded.

Triana's smile died. "I heard what Nathair did to you. She tricked you into killing your father. She used you… I had a father too."

Cara let go of Triana with a push, letting her sway on the chain.

Triana didn't smile again, but she did show a little tooth. "If we're done with the rank sentimentality, can I have my Agiel back? After you left me for dead—"

"Since when is turnabout not fair play?"

Triana pretended she hadn't been interrupted, like was good-naturedly ignoring a cough or other rudeness. "I woke up without my Agiel. And I notice you have two."

Cara took out her second Agiel. Ran it over Triana's body. "Where do you want it?"

Triana's eyes did that thing that had used to make Care feel as heated as a five-mile run in the middle of a summer day. Cara stuffed the Agiel in her mouth and let her bite down on it as she let her down. When Triana landed, Cara kicked her leathers to her.

"I hope you understand this is nothing personal. I just don't trust you."

Triana tugged on her bangs, arranging what was left of her hair into a bell-shaped halo. "I would be insulted if you let me within a mile of the Lord Rahl without testing my loyalties. So please, anytime you'd like to hurt me some more, feel free."

"Don't worry. I will."

* * *

Outside the cave, Richard was going over the ground rules with the new recruits. "For the last time, no killing people! Yes, Raina, you had your hand up?"

Tall Raina, dark and beautiful in hair and eyes, spoke. "You know we can bring them back to life."

"It still bothers them," Richard said, trying his best to be equitable. "Alright, what's another thing that might not be acceptable? Yes, Berdine?"

Energetic, good-natured Berdine had her hand up. She was always a bit more down to earth than the other Mord'Sith, her braid a little looser, her sneer a little more of a smile. "Torturing people?"

"Very good. We should only torture people as a last resort, so before you use your Agiel, ask myself, Cara, Kahlan, or Zedd if it's a good idea. Oh, hey Cara. Is there anything you'd like to add?"

Cara looked over the nine Mord'Sith who had joined them. Ten, including Triana. But Richard didn't have to worry about her. Cara would see to her personally. "Please don't step out of line or I'll have to kill you."

The Mord'Sith nodded.

Richard counted off on his fingers. "So that's no killing, no torturing, no stealing, and it's probably a bad idea to sleep with anyone that's married. Any questions?"

Triana stepped out of the cave's shadows, tightening her belt. "I have a question. Are we allowed to have any fun?"

"We have fun," Richard protested, "right Cara?"

"I'm going to go find Kahlan," Cara said.

"But we do have fun, right?"

As Richard followed Cara, Triana showed off her reclaimed Agiel to the other Mord'Sith.

"She barely even touched me. Must be getting soft in her old age."

The Mord'Sith laughed among themselves.

* * *

There was an order to things. A cycle. The Seeker of Truth had a Wizard and a Confessor. He didn't have a Mord'Sith. Maybe that was why Cara looked so out of place, jittery, on edge, scanning the grasslands for threats instead of focusing on the others as they conversed.

"Richard gets his magic back and Mord'Sith, trained to capture magic, show up to serve him. I don't like it," Cara said. She had either hand on her Agiel and was twisting it like she was trying to break it apart. Kahlan could picture white knuckles under her gloves.

She hated seeing Cara like this, like the past year hadn't happened and she was still just a Mord'Sith, but she didn't know what to do. Cara was in love with her and so how could Kahlan comfort her without making things worse? She knew what it was like to have a love that couldn't be consummated. Every softness hardened, every affection turned into cruelty. She didn't want that for Cara.

Richard was looking at her, welcoming her counsel as usual. But she was feeling so foolish then. "My magic doesn't work on Mord'Sith," she stated. "They could be telling the truth…"

"Confess one of them to be sure," Cara spat. "In her death throes, we'll know the truth. Might I suggest Triana?"

"Cara," Richard said warningly, with a glance to Kahlan.

"Berdine, then. She's always been weak…"

"Cara!" The blonde turned to Kahlan. Meeting her glare, Cara holstered her Agiel and took her hand off it. "They're your sisters."

"None of them are my sister," Cara said with a note of finality. She moved to patrol the perimeter, otherwise known as the hilltop they were standing on.

"There's an old saying among wizards," Zedd said. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer still."

"_Now_ you decide it's okay to pal around with Mord'Sith?" Cara asked, exasperated.

"Zedd's right," Kahlan said. "Whether they're sincere or not, we could benefit from having the Mord'Sith where we can see them instead of roaming the countryside. Just imagine them going about their business in the name of Richard. It'd be like Maia all over again."

Cara ended her patrol, coming up behind Richard. "You'd be picking up a snake from the grass and hoping it wasn't poisonous."

"It worked out last time."

Cara looked to Kahlan, who said ingratiatingly "Cara, you know them better than anyone. Can they be trusted?"

Cara thought about it. Hated herself for thinking about it. "They're not the worst of the worst. Berdine and Raina are downright human. And Triana has a code of honor. When she betrayed me, she let me live. She didn't have to do that. Then again, I was unconscious, in between a screeling and the usual mob of angry villagers." Cara shrugged.

Richard nodded tightly. "For now, we take them in. But we do in cautiously. Never be alone with one of them. Try and travel in pairs."

Cara smirked. "The day I can't handle one of their Agiels is the day I'm useless to the Lord Rahl anyway."

Richard put up his hands. "Or do whatever you want as per usual. But keep an eye out for each other."

"That's right," Zedd said. "We don't want this to be another Dahlia."

Cara looked at him. She didn't recall there being a first 'Dahlia.' But then, he was a wizard, and prone to strangeness.

Richard looked at each of them in turn. "What about this Emperor Jagang? Could Darken Rahl bring him back?"

"A thousand years of decomposition," Zedd muttered. "Even a Baneling can't come back without a body. But then, I never expected the Nygaax until I had its wrappings around me. I'll know more when I get to my library. It's just the sort of thing I was researching when this whole quest business started!"

"I didn't know that," Richard said.

"What, did you think I spent all my time waiting for you to claim your heritage just… prancing around naked with chickens?"

"Yes."

"And let me guess," Cara said. "Your library is with the wizard's rock in your home in Hartland."

"Yes."

Cara rolled her eyes. "May I ask why you didn't take the rock with you, wizard?"

"It's the size of a hovel! I can't exactly fit it in my pocket!"

Richard leaned over to Kahlan. "Think we have time to sneak away while they bicker?" he whispered.

She gave him a coy look. "And give them cause to look for us? Viviane and I both had enough of those interruptions back at the catacombs."

Richard stepped forward. "Speaking of Mord'Sith!" he interrupted. "We'd better check up on them."

Cara led the way.

* * *

While they'd been strategizing, the Mord'Sith had been busy too. In a matter of minutes, they'd built a fire, killed a stag, and hoisted it into a spit, which they'd also composed. Richard took a whiff of what Rikka and Hally were spinning and his knees went weak.

"It smells delicious. I didn't know Mord'Sith could do that." Cara was pointedly nearby.

"But I can do it," she said. "Maybe I simply choose not to. Did you consider that?"

"No."

"It could be poisoned," Zedd whispered. "I'd better try it first."

"I concur," Cara said.

* * *

"We should talk," Kahlan said.

Cara hated conversations that began that way.

She liked talking to Kahlan. Kahlan was funny and clever and her voice was very… her. And Kahlan understood, Kahlan was a warrior, but not a sick broken thing like the Mord'Sith. She was gloriously alive and she fought for that. So Cara enjoyed talking with Kahlan.

But she hated _having_ to talk to Kahlan.

They were on the road, their loose trotting formation flanked on all sides by the Mord'Sith. Cara gave an occasional resentful glance to the Mord'Sith's sleek black destriers, a far cry from her spackled workhorse. Kahlan was riding alongside her, and Richard and Zedd were far enough off to be of no help to her. Cara wondered if Kahlan had told them. If she had—no, Kahlan wouldn't do that to her. She might not love her, but she didn't hate her.

"What's to talk about?"

"You don't have anything to be ashamed of," Kahlan said.

"I'm not ashamed."

"I hope you understand that just because we weren't meant to be together, it doesn't mean you have to be alone. There's someone for you."

"Yes. Who wouldn't want a lover with my sexy psychological shortcomings and lovable complete devotion to Lord Rahl?"

Behind them, Richard was regaling the Mord'Sith with nostalgia for a glassblower's shop in Hartland. Berdine looked interested. The rest… looked like Cara.

"You're brave, smart, funny—"

"I'm funny?"

"You make me laugh."

Cara wondered if she should be offended, but it was Kahlan. How could she be?

"Maybe one of the Mord'Sith?" Kahlan ventured. "There must be a reason you were so adamant about Richard letting you be alone with them."

"Aren't you forgetting? A Mord'Sith's trade is hate, not love."

Kahlan almost pulled her horse to a stop. "You want someone to love you."

"I want _you_ to love me," Cara almost growled. "And don't dare tell me you love me as a friend."

Kahlan was as skilled with words as Cara was with pain. She broke the tension after a respectful pause. "I have a sister, you know."

Cara hated that she smiled. Her lips felt treacherous.

"He took my virginity."

Cara's eyes tried to bolt from their sockets. "What?"

"Richard took my virginity. I've never been this close to anyone, ever. And I thought I could handle it, but… sometimes I get scared, or uncertain, or even happy, and I want to share it with my best friend. Can you understand that? We were such good friends, as close as I've been to anyone since my sister… I don't want to go back to being strangers."

Sometimes Cara didn't have time to process things. It was kill or be killed. She trusted her instincts, the training that had formed her instincts, the centuries of Mord'Sith who had perfected the training. Lately, she had been given cause to doubt her training, which made her doubt her instincts, which made her doubt herself. The only thing she couldn't doubt was Kahlan. And if something in her wanted to help Kahlan… she would help her.

"My first time was with Triana," Cara said. "I was seventeen, she was nineteen. None of the other sisters knew I was still… she didn't want one of the sisters with a taste for virgins to have me. So one night, she called me up to her room and explained to me what sex was…"

"You didn't know what sex was?" Kahlan asked, downplaying her surprise to chagrin.

"It was irrelevant to my training," Cara answered. "She told me what it was and explained the importance that those in the outside world placed upon it and later in the night we… she was very gentle. It struck me as odd, because she was never that gentle with me again."

Cara looked forward at the road, and however well Kahlan did or didn't know her, she knew enough that she didn't continue the conversation. Triana was up ahead, at the fore like she always had to be. She hadn't apologized for the betrayal. It didn't matter to Cara, but she wanted it to matter to Triana.

Cara rode out, passing by Triana and giving her a lingering glare. Triana remained subserviently behind as Cara took point. She noted with some irritation that mists had started to roll in. No. Mists weren't the color of blood. This smoke was sinuous and purposeful, like a python choking the life out of something. And it parted to allow Darken Rahl to step through.

"Hello, everyone. My Flagellants were kind enough to inform me of your journey. I hope you don't mind me dropping by."

"Cara, get back!" Richard yelled, his horse charging forward, sword hissing as he drew it.

Cara's horse reared, but she stayed on it, drawing the axhead from her saddle and letting it telescope out into a pole-ax. Triana had been good enough to part with it.

"I didn't come here to fight," Rahl said, standing firm as hooves windmilled inches from his face. "But I didn't come here alone either."

Richard rode up. Kahlan was beside him and the Mord'Sith flanked them in a protective formation, inside which Zedd was muttering a spell.

"What do you want?" Richard demanded.

"To offer you my brotherly love and benevolent leadership." Rahl gestured grandly. "I realize we've had our quarrels, but surely there's no need for that anymore. Soon, the world will be mine again, at peace, and this time the population will be much more… manageable. Each of my children will receive my tender, loving…"

"Can we skip the megalomania? For once?" Cara asked.

"Certainly. I must admit, you have been a persistent thorn in my side, one I'm eager to pluck. But instead of continuing this bloody feud, why not put it behind us? Simply take my hand and I'll give you a place in the new order. You can rule beside me, if you wish, or live the simple life with your darling Confessor and her sisterly Mord'Sith. Everyone gets what they want."

"And what about the people who don't want to be 'managed'?"

"Why, they'll enjoy eternity with the Spirits. I'm told it's quite nice."

In one swift move, Richard had his sword at Rahl's throat. "I have a counterproposal. How about you surrender to us, we take you back to D'Hara, and you answer for the crimes you've committed against the people of the Midlands!"

"Brother… I help you find the Stone of Tears, and this is the thanks I receive?"

"You only did it to buy your way into the Spirits' good graces." With extraordinary control, Richard sliced a single hair from Rahl's beard. "Wanna see if it worked?"

"I'd rather see the look on your face as your loved ones burn before your eyes."

The red mist that had engulfed them swirled more, so much that it seemed like there were disembodied limbs stirring in the mire before they were revealed to belong to the Sisters of the Dark. Thirty of them.

"I thought you and the Keeper had a nasty break-up," Richard commented, signaling to Cara. She was already marshalling the Mord'Sith into a tighter formation.

"We've mended fences. He was rather amenable when I promised him I'd personally deliver your soul into his hands."

"Enough with the back-and-forth!" Cara snapped, driving her pole-ax into Rahl's chest. He caught it and diverted the head into the Sword of Truth, knocking it aside, then his hands glowed with green flame and the pole-ax exploded in Cara's hands.

She was knocked from her horse, but hit the ground running, whipping her Agiel out and across the face of the nearest Sister. The air filled with the whine of a dozen dacras in flight, abruptly cut off by the Mord'Sith catching them. Then an explosion of light from Zedd, driving the mist back for miles and knocking the Sisters off their feet. More charged in, dacras in hand.

Everything was chaos. It was glorious. Richard and Kahlan fought back to back, Zedd threw pillars of wizard's fire in every direction, and the Sisters of the Dark kept coming. Cara held herself back, letting the corpses pile at her feet as she waited for _her_ sisters to catch up. Then she swung at a new threat and found herself crossing swords with Darken Rahl.

"You just annoy me," he said, and threw her back like she was a ragdoll. She landed on her spine, away from the rest of the group. Sisters of the Dark rushed in on her. She rolled as their dacras came down, scoring divots from the ground, then she levered herself up and swept her leg out, whipping their feet out from under them. Her Agiel came down, once caving a face in, then simply staking it to a chest until the magic turned a heart black.

"Take her," Rahl said, and another Sister stepped forward. She carried herself differently from the rest. Her feet were light, her muscles tightly strung. She was no stranger to battle.

The Sister came on, a dacra in either hand. Cara rose to face her.

Rahl was still talking. "My brother. The Wizard. The Confessor. I never expected them to understand. But you, my dear… your little rebellion wounded me. Truly."

"I can do better," she said. She charged forward. The Sister intercepted her, both dacras singing, and it was all Cara could do with her one Agiel to block her wheeling attacks. She had to use her forearm to break a cut meant for her throat and backed off, bleeding.

Through the veil, Cara could just make out the Sister's face. Delicate features. Full lips. Bright blue eyes. As they circled, Rahl calmly continued his sermon, hands folded together thoughtfully. "I've never grasped why you chose to follow my brother instead of me. After all, you and I have so much more in common. We both killed our fathers, for instance…"

Cara feinted, letting them think she was outraged, but she'd made peace with her past long ago. The Sister tensed, relaxed, and Cara struck. Knocked the blocking dacras wide and then put a heel in her sternum. The Sister stumbled back and Cara started for Rahl. But the Sister recovered, even though that blow should've fractured her breastbone, and Cara had to spin to meet her charge. Agiel and dacra met, Cara giving ground to buy time.

"And now your defiance has cost me my Mord'Sith," Rahl concluded. "Although I suppose I should thank you for weeding out those too weak to see the glory of my vision. They have no place in my new world."

"Sister!" Triana said, and though Cara didn't look, she caught the Agiel that Triana threw, square in the palm of her hand. Cara brought it around, hitting a dacra hard enough to spark. She and the Sister were locked together now, their legs motionless, their arms a blur, move, countermove.

Until Cara let the blade of a dacra sink into her forearm. With the same arm, she jabbed her Agiel into the Sister's arm, watched her stiffen with pain. Cara's other Agiel lashed out, hitting the Sister hard enough to knock the veil from her head. In the full light of day, she was beautiful. Shame. Cara pressed the Agiel to her throat and watched the black veins spread.

"Cara, no!" Zedd called between wizard's fire. "It's Dahlia!"

Cara stopped, pulling her Agiel back for a merciful instant, placing the name and trying to reconcile this death-worshipper with her childhood friend. And in that instant, Dahlia plunged her dacra into Cara's heart.


	9. We're a long way from home Part 2

Cara woke up. No green flames. No naked people. Maybe she was with the Spirits. Then she saw Triana.

Yeah.

Cara feel a cool breeze on her skin and across her chest. She looked down to see that Triana had undone the lacing down her leathers' sides and pulled the front flap down. Bandages covered the wound. Blood had seeped all over her torso and leathers, but Triana was cleaning it away with a washcloth. As Cara watched, Berdine came in and set down a bowl of fresh water for Triana to use.

"Will she be all right?" the brunette asked.

Triana looked up at her. "She's Cara."

Berdine bowed respectfully and left.

"The breath of life," Cara said when the door shut.

If Triana was surprised by her being awake, she didn't show it. "Yes. We were wondering if it had worked for a little while. The wound was deep." She went back to cleaning off the dried blood.

"Rahl?" Cara asked.

"Which one?"

"Darken Rahl."

"He turned into green fire and teleported away."

"I hate when he does that." Cara looked up to see rafters, a lamp. "Where am I?"

"Hartland. Richard brought you here. He says this is the house of a healer." Triana looked around, indicating without indicating the jars of various things, the bowls of poultices, the leeches. "I have my doubts."

Cara finally gave in to the weakness, now that she'd proved she could still focus on duty. "And the woman I was fighting?"

"I was unable to end her life," Triana apologized.

"That's alright."

The washcloth was slipping lower, having already turned Cara's nipples from coal into diamonds.

"Let me make it up to you, mistress."

Cara shut her legs. "I can take care of myself, sister. That will be all."

Triana dropped the washcloth into its bowl with a petulant slap of water. "You could have any of us. Alina. Nyda. Rikka. It would let them know you're in charge. It's our way."

"Not mine." Cara relentlessly threaded her laces through their grommets. "I never chose to be a Mord'Sith. I was broken and put back together this way. And you glory in it? I look at you and all I feel is disgust."

The kiss was like touching an Agiel after a night without it. Such nostalgic pain. Cara had only gotten her leathers laced up one side and the flap fell open, exposing her left breast to the blunt force of Triana's hand. Triana had known her better than she knew herself now, and however her mind had changed, her body still hungered for that touch. Cara felt pure and unrepentant heat at her core.

"That doesn't taste like disgust," Triana sneered into Cara's mouth.

She pushed Triana back to arm's length with the point of her Agiel, keeping it on her as she did up her leathers. Triana licked the taste from her lips and glared boldly into Cara's eyes. Cara didn't have the will to discipline her. "Do you want your Agiel back?"

"My Agiel is yours," Triana pledged. "As always."

"Not always," Cara reminded her, cracking her own neck.

Triana looked satisfyingly queasy as Cara went downstairs.

The Mord'Sith were gathered in the deserted waiting room of the healer's lodge, lounging in various states of undress, patching each others' wounds. Berdine and Raina were testing how long either could take the pain of both their Agiels, trying to improve their fortitude.

"They say he was once a woods guide," Berdine said to Raina, but loud enough to be heard by everyone. From her tone, she was obviously talking about Richard.

"I can believe it," Raina replied, teeth clenched from the Agiels jammed under her armpits. "He acts more like a woods guide than the Lord Rahl."

"He may be a woods guide, but he's our woods guide," Cara said, coming down the stairs. The Mord'Sith went to something like attention. "And where is the man we're sworn to protect?"

"He wanted to be alone, mistress," Hally reported. "He and the Mother Confessor went to the graveyard."

Cara nodded. "Visiting his family. I'll collect them."

"Mistress?" Solvig asked her on the way out.

"Yes?"

"Did he kill them?"

Cara shut the door behind her.

* * *

Hartland. What the hell was she doing in Hartland? It was so bustling and charming and folksy. People couldn't just go about their business, they waved across streets at each other and said hello and she was pretty sure there were one or two casual hugs going on in the walkways. Of course Richard had been raised here. Their chief exports were understanding and smiles.

The graveyard at least had some somberness. Past an ivy-covered fence, there were rows and rows of graves, marked by plates laid in the ground with the dead's likeness carved into them, along with their name and messages from those they'd loved. It was easy to find Richard. Cara just followed the sound of him carving. She caught up with him and Kahlan walking on the path out of the graveyard, hand in hand, and followed behind at a safe distance. A shadow.

"I just can't help thinking that if I had been a better brother, maybe he would've believed me. Maybe he would still be alive," Richard said. His voice was full of the kind of self-pity that Cara had spent a lifetime not expressing.

"Michael took the word of a stranger over his own brother," Kahlan said gently. "That's his fault, not yours."

Richard squeezed her hand and they left the graveyard. The shade of the trees turned the atmosphere almost imperceptibly into romance. Cara stayed in the cemetery, resting her hands on the fence, watching them.

"He wanted me to go into politics with him, you know," Richard said. Kahlan was now tucked under his arm like a favored pet. "He thought it would be such an advantage to have someone he could trust at his side. He always thought I was wasting my potential being a woods guide, but I told him I didn't have a head for politics. And now look at me. The Lord Rahl. I miss him, Kahlan. I miss him and my father. I miss having a family."

"You do have a family, Richard." Kahlan stopped and, in a patch of sunlight, they took each others' hands. "Zedd and Jennsen… and me." She sauntered closer, their bodies nearly meeting in a kind of intimacy that Cara could only glimpse, not describe. "And tell me, could any boy ask for a better big brother than Cara?"

"Ha! I suppose she is. But we hardly know each other. Have we ever even been under the same roof?"

Kahlan would brook no pessimism. "That's what the wedding will be for, won't it? Bringing families together."

Cara looked closely and saw the ring on Kahlan's fingers. It was bluntly obvious when Richard brought her hand up to kiss.

"One more thing to look forward to. Let's get back. We should check on Cara."

He started to go, but Kahlan held him close. "Richard, before we get married, there's something I must know."

"What is it, Kahlan?"

"When Zedd's magic split me apart, and you had all that time alone with a Kahlan with no power…"

"You're better."

"Of that I have no doubt. I was just wondering, how you went about it?"

Her smile was inquiring and his was answering. He put his hands on her hips and slowly dipped her to the ground. She went willingly.

"Well," Richard said, making a show of trying to remember, "first I laid her down gently…"

Kahlan twisted before her back hit grass, grabbing Richard so he was flipped off his feet and onto his back. Kahlan straddled him. Her dress had slipped off one shoulder and she demurely let it droop. The message was clear. She'd be the seducer this time. Cara could almost feel pride. "And then?"

"Well…"

How many babies were they trying to make? Cara left them to their memories, making them and reliving them. She hadn't watched as Richard and the other Kahlan made love either. She had just sat by the fire and thought of Leo.

And now, she did what she always did when life hammered the nails in.

She focused on the mission.

* * *

"What are you doing with that crossbow?"

Cara slid an arrow into the tiller. "I'm going to kill something." She gave Zedd a look like she might not mind it being him.

"Are you upset with me?" Zedd had the nerve to ask.

Cara buckled a quiver firmly to her hip. "I don't like being stopped from killing things. It diminishes me."

Zedd stood in her way when she went for the door. He laid it all out, step by step. She'd been in love. She'd been broken. She'd been a schoolteacher. Cara took it pretty well.

"Keep your senility to yourself, old man." She pushed past him.

In love with a Mord'Sith. It was ridiculous. And to imagine it happening twice, to each other? Maybe he should use that youth spell again.

* * *

The hot spring spewed from the side of the mountain, cooling as it ran down smooth rocks and featureless boulders until it dropped into a crevice, forming a natural pool which then overflowed down into a nearby river. Dahlia stood under the flowing water, letting it beat down on her back like a cat o' nine tails, arms spread on the rock. It wouldn't work. This wasn't dirtiness she felt, but impurity. Like metal that hadn't been fired hot enough in the forge. She'd been stone-cold in the mist, cold enough to fool even Darken Rahl, but couldn't shake the feeling that Cara could see right through her, to the place where she held out hope.

As she turned her face up into the rushing water, she let her mind drift back. She'd hesitated. Pulled back from putting a blade in Cara's throat, where the breath of life couldn't help her. A shameful little voice within her kept insisting that Cara was the same caring child she'd grown up with.

"How's the water?"

She looked up. Cara stood on an outcropping of rock, aiming a crossbow so Dahlia could see the point of the bolt. Dahlia was unbelievably amused. She'd thought Darken Rahl had exaggerated in saying Cara was his best Mord'Sith.

"I thought you'd be taller," Dahlia said. "How'd you find me?"

"You always did like a warm bath," Cara replied calmly. Her eyes were tearing into Dahlia's face. "Tell me why, and do it quietly."

"Why what?"

Cara jerked her head toward Dahlia's red robes, lying on the side of the pool.

"I don't know," Dahlia said, her voice growing loud with anger. "Perhaps it has something to do with my best friend being twisted into something she wasn't. Or my family dying in a resistance attack. I was raised by the Sisters of the Light, those hags. Not one of my blood was even a soldier, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong-!" Dahlia calmed, sinking into the water up to her chin. "We have a duty to our children not to let any of them be born into the evil world, so none of them have to lose a father—"

"You need to be quiet. Right now." Cara's finger twitched on the trigger. "You're not the only one who's lost people."

"I'm the only one who's doing something about it."

"And that's why you serve Darken Rahl?"

Dahlia gathered her hair with her fingers, washing it out. She refused to think of Cara's fingers brushing against her scalp. "I serve the Keeper."

"Rahl is worse. He used to be human once. Stay away from him. Serve the Keeper in some other way. You don't know Rahl like I do."

"Is that concern in your voice? He's not the one you have to worry about. It's his brother who wants to keep you tied to this torture chamber of a life, suffering through indignity after indignity. The Keeper will end this cycle of misery once and for all, taking us into the reunion of his loving embrace."

Cara knelt down, putting them closer to eye level. "I've felt his loving embrace. It was a bit warmer than I care for. And there are people there who really should wear clothes."

"Am I one of them?" Dahlia asked. Spreading her arms, she let Cara see the breasts she meant to put an arrow through. They were pink and flushed from hot water.

"Are you trying to tempt me?"

"Why?" Dahlia asked, backing onto a slab of rock. She laid against it, offering herself to Cara's eyes. "Are you tempted?"

Cara didn't answer.

"To answer your question, the water's fine. Come on in…" Dahlia's toes brushed against the dacra she'd dropped at the bottom of the pool. She began inching it up the slab of rock, toward the fingers waiting behind her back. The water concealed it all from Cara's gaze, trained as it was on the rhythm of her lungs.

Cara leaned forward. It was hard to notice, but her leathers were soaked in blood. Dahlia felt a flush of guilt. "Are you not a little concerned that I'll kill you?" Cara asked. "Or are you into that sort of thing?"

"You won't kill me." The dacra's metallic chill filled her palm. "You serve Richard Cypher. You think you're on the side of right and goodness."

"You'd be surprised."

Dahlia lined up her shot. Cara had taken her eye off the crossbow, let it droop in her hands. "Then maybe you just don't have it in you."

Her body ripped from the water, surging forward with the same energy she put into her throw. But instead of the familiar sensation of the dacra leaving her hand, she felt an arrow pierce through her palm and pin her hand to the rock. The dacra plopped into the water.

Cara calmly reloaded. "I didn't want to do that," she said, almost to herself. "I'll kill you if I have to, Dahlia."

"So why don't you!" Dahlia demanded.

"I said I'd protect you, once. My new friends look poorly on liars." Cara walked away. Dahlia followed the golden ray of her hair, the brightest thing about her.

"We should go before the Keeper together, Cara! You're miserable all the time anyway! When was the last time you enjoyed yourself? When was the last time you were happy to be alive!"

Cara left without answering.

Dahlia ripped her hand free of the arrow. "You're dead already," she said to the empty pool.

* * *

Cara could've let one of the Mord'Sith to do it, but she wanted something to be clean. She dug the sponge into the pail and attacked her leathers with soapy water, working her arm so hard the muscles stood out. And when the red was only that of the leather and not her blood, she washed it again. She didn't want a single trace left.


	10. We're a long way from home Part 3

Amfortas breathed deeply, some screaming part of himself smelling the burning flesh and ozone stink of magic. Kieran was dead. Viviane was gone. Soon, he would have to bind Kieran's spirit to make sure the Keeper didn't use his rage against the light. But for now, he stood there, feeling nothing but tired. Around him, the village continued to burn.

Minutes or hours later, he heard the boom of drums underscoring a chorus of hoofbeats. Jagang was approaching. Amfortas walked out of the town to see the black blanket of Jagang's forces being drawn across the horizon. As they saw the smoke that had been their home, the soldiers stopped banging their drums, and all that was left was the desperate din of the horses. They surrounded Amfortas, though a hundredstrong fraction of the army broke rank to run to the town. They found nothing.

It took minutes, but Jagang made his way from the middle of the army. His palanquin was too slow-going; when he caught sight of Amfortas, he leapt down and stalked toward him like a screeching bat. The piercings and chins that gleamed in his dark face gave the impression of teeth and claws. "What have you done, wizard?"

"You, who slaughter innocents and burn fields fallow, ask me that? The Seeker has responded in kind."

"My wife…" Jagang's voice broke. "My children…"

"I'm sorry."

In a heartbeat, Jagang's pain changed to anger. He poured a flood of fire into Amfortas, and the wizard blocked it. When Jagang's rage was finally exhausted, the grass had wilted for a hundred yards and a battalion of his own men were skeletons.

"Where is he?" Jagang demanded.

Amfortas's voice was equally bitter. "You'll be happy to hear I was forced to kill him. He went too far."

"Happy?" Flame bubbled from Jagang again. Fire surrounded him, but he didn't burn. "You've cheated me of my revenge!"

"Jagang, please. I've had my fill of spilled blood. Can it really be too late to negotiate? This war has become too costly."

"Costly! You have not begun to pay. You wizards will name another Seeker and carry on Kieran's tradition! No! I'll tear away everyone who calls out for the Seeker's help! Destroy everyone who ever offered him love or hope! Break the world open and let the Keeper feast! _All will feel my pain!_"

"To be honest, I was hoping you would say that. The Seeker has completed his quest. The Clear Eye's Flame has been found." Amfortas held it up.

Jagang screamed as his world turned green.

* * *

Richard stared at the Hartland Inn. It looked just the way he remembered it, except for the tattered D'Haran insignia that no one had bothered to tear down. He casually disintegrated it with wizard's fire as he walked inside. Old Man Malley was still manning the bar, probably still using the same cloth to wipe it down.

"Mr. Malley, I need rooms for the night," he said, setting his hands on the counter.

"Yer not stayin' at the Cypher place."

"It was my father's place," Richard said meaningfully.

"I understand."

Richard reached into his vest to draw out a bag of coins.

"What the hell you wearin', boy?"

Richard looked down at his leather vest and the other clothes he'd purchased in the Midlands. They struck a nice balance between offering protection and not making him want to kill himself when he walked all day under a hot sun. "Oh, just some things I picked up in the Midlands. Kahlan seems to like them." Although with the way she'd pulled him out of them, you wouldn't be able to tell. "You see, it turns out my brother is an evil tyrant, and there was this prophecy that said I was supposed to kill him. So I did, but by doing that, I caused a tear in the Veil. Did you notice that?"

Old Man Malley shook his head.

"Well, believe me, it was a big problem. That's where I picked up Cara and the other Mord'Sith. Oh, they'll be needing rooms too. They used to serve Darken Rahl, my brother, but now that he's dead, they follow me. Although he came back to life, so now they serve me because they're worried that Darken Rahl will bring Emperor Jagang back to life. You've heard the story of Emperor Jagang?"

Old Man Malley shook his head.

"Well, I doubt it would be a good thing. Oh, and I have a sister…"

"Here's your keys," Old Man Malley said, dropping them on the counter.

"I might not need all of these," Richard said. "The Mord'Sith are… very close, and so some of them might share a room. Heck, for all I know, they'll all pile into the stables because it's a 'superior tactical position.' I gave up trying to understand them a while back. I mean, they have these weapons called Agiels which hurt when you touch them, even if you're the one wielding them, but they stay with that instead of using a sword or arrows or a mace… well, sometimes they use arrows…"

"You don't keep a diary, do you son?"

Richard shook his head.

"You might want to start."

"Better yet, I could talk to Chase! Wait, he's somewhere in the Midlands. I'd better go tell him that the Boundary is down and he can go home, once I'm finished with this Jagang business. You see, his wife Emma was kidnapped by the D'Harans and we had to get her back—"

Old Man Malley sighed.

* * *

When she got back to Hartland, all Cara wanted to do was sleep. Shooting Dahlia had… taken from her. She felt all the pain she'd accrued, but instead of it making her feel alive, she felt like they were hooks, pulling her apart. She missed the days when nothing hurt. Or at least she hadn't felt it.

Rikka pointed her to her bed. "Pleasant dreams," she said, which struck Cara as odd. She pushed open the door to her room and found Berdine and Raina in her bed. They had started without her.

Berdine managed to pull herself away for a moment. Cara envied her resolve. "Triana told us to keep your bed warm. We'll keep you warm too."

"I'm tired," Cara replied. "I want sleep."

"You'll sleep much better once we're done with you."

They ran their hands over each other, as if showcasing the other's virtues. "Which of us do you want?" Berdine asked.

"Or which of us do you want first?" Raina drew her Agiel across Berdine's body and Cara found it hard not to track its progress. "We know it's been a long time since you've used your Agiel the way it was meant to be used. You must have worked up quite the appetite."

Cara was tempted. It was good to know she still had that much. But the hunger she once would've felt… the yearning to make them submit to her, not just in words but in deeds… she didn't feel. She had no desire to strive for the sated contentment she had once derived from battle, in or out of bed. She knew it wouldn't last near long enough.

"I'll be having words with Triana," she informed them. "I expect you to be gone by the time I'm back. If not, I'll throw you out no matter what state you're in."

Raina made one last attempt, slipping the Agiel down where the covers still offered Berdine some modesty. "Will you be gone long?"

"No. I won't take long at all."

* * *

Triana hit the floor, her cheek already glowing from the blow Cara had struck. She reached for her Agiel, but Cara's boot dropped across her throat, choking her enough to dissuade her.

"If you want to fuck with me, do it in person," Cara said.

Triana gazed upward fiercely. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but if you're not fit to lead, then stop before you get us all killed!"

Cara knelt down, still on Triana's throat. "I'll lead. But I won't do it your way. You will respect Richard's ways. And mine."

"And what was so wrong about the way things were?" Triana gasped. Even as her eyelids fluttered, her hands were traipsing up the leg Cara had across her windpipe. "Don't tell me you didn't love it. Every bit of it."

Cara let her have air. It was something Richard would do. "The person I was enjoyed that. I don't."

"Bullshit," Triana replied breathlessly. "You build this thin little shell over your desires and you think you're a Confessor? You were woven of blood and sex and rage, and not all the chastity in the world can change that."

Cara returned Triana's Agiel to her. The hard way. "You might be right." She dropped the Agiel into Triana's hand. "But I do wonder if you resent that I've turned my back on the old ways… or on you."

Despite the pain she was already feeling, Triana wrapped her hand around the Agiel and let its magic work on her. Cara knew that sometimes, pain was a curative.

* * *

"My research has been fruitful!" Zedd announced. He had gathered them all in the common room of the inn, probably the busiest it had ever been. It also kept him close to the pig roasting in its pit.

Richard and Kahlan were practically canoodling on a bench. The Mord'Sith were gathered along the far wall, in the shadows, looking unimpressed. Cara sat between the two, her feet up on a table, systematically decimating a slice of meat on her plate with knife and fork. She wished they could just go to wherever Darken Rahl was and start killing his people. That was what the plan always ended up being, if no one had to dress up as someone they weren't.

Cara would have to remind everyone to repress the episode with the dress, which was how she chose to remember the business with the Margrave, or she was joining the Sisters of the Dark. If anyone breathed a word of it to her Agiel-sisters, the only sane course of action left would be to destroy the world.

"Have any of you ever heard the story of Kieran and Viviane?" Zedd asked.

"The last great Seeker," Richard said. "He died a thousand years ago."

"He died stopping Jagang," Cara added. "Your great predecessor couldn't put an end to his evil, he could only contain him in the Underworld. Did your story mention that?"

"Honestly, I kind of fixated on the part with them dying in each other's arms, swearing eternal love."

Cara found herself carving D+C on the table, just like she had done to countless trees in her childhood. She and Dahlia. "You remind me of a little girl," she said to Richard.

"The story was incomplete, as we learned years ago in his tomb. You weren't there for that," Zedd told the Mord'Sith, Cara included. "Viviane Confessed Kieran in her love for him, and when she killed herself to release him, he went mad under the combined stress of the Seeker and Confessor's magicks. At least, so I thought. Now, knowing what has occurred between Richard and Kahlan…"

Cara heard the Mord'Sith raise eyebrows as one.

"—I believe that Kieran was never Confessed at all."

Kahlan spoke up. "But Amfortas himself told you that Kieran became obsessed with protecting Viviane, to the point of neglecting his duties."

"Merely a byproduct of their growing relationship. Viviane died for nothing. And between her death and the war, Kieran went mad." Zedd cut off another slice of roast. He noticed he was being stared at. "With eleven Mord'Sith around, I expected more snide remarks, and more time to eat! You can work up a great appetite, researching all day! Try it!"

"Mord'Sith," Cara said, "you have permission to attack the roast if the wizard doesn't get on with it."

"Not the roast! It's seasoned to perfection!"

"Zedd, Cara has a point," Richard said. "Besides, what was stopping you from eating while you were reading all those dusty tomes?"

"And get dust all over my roast?"

"On the count of three, sisters," Cara said.

"Alright, alright!" Zedd swallowed the pork he had hastily stuffed in his mouth. "Maddened by grief and pain, Kieran rode through enemy lines and sacked Jagang's home city. I'm sure we're all aware of how terrible the wrath of the Seeker can be."

The Mord'Sith looked vaguely intrigued. Richard looked vaguely shameful. Kahlan squeezed his thigh. Her hand still had a ring on it.

"Jagang's family, his friends, his entire home was destroyed."

"Fair penance, if you ask me," Triana said. "Jagang's warfare was atrocious, even for us."

"With the Seeker unable to continue his quest, Amfortas must have sealed Jagang and his army away," Richard said, rubbing his chin.

"Nice of him to mention it," Cara replied.

Zedd shot Cara a 'shut up now' glance. "Then, Richard, when you used the Stone of Tears, you not only closed the rifts in the Veil, but all the places where the Underworld and the World of the Living cross."

"Like the Boundaries," Kahlan said.

"Exactly!"

"Then no one sent Jagang to the Underworld at all!" Richard exclaimed. In his excitement, he stood up and paced. Cara wondered if he registered the Mord'Sith's eyes tracking him, ready to protect him at a moment's notice. "It was just a corruption of history. He was sealed _within_ the Underworld, by a Boundary!"

"And now the Boundaries are coming down," Zedd said. "It's taken more time with the Boundary between the Midlands and Westland, because that rift is wider and has been there longer. Jagang's Boundary predates all others. It's probably still up!"

"That must have been Darken Rahl's plan all along," Kahlan said. "When he betrayed the Keeper, this was his endgame."

"You're right," Richard said. "Rahl never does anything without some ridiculous master plan."

"He must get it from his mother's side of the family," Cara remarked.

"But wait." Richard stopped in his tracks. "How can Jagang still be alive? It's been a thousand years."

"You'll remember the spell I discovered to make myself young again," Zedd lectured. "A wizard of Jagang's power could do the same. The good news is, his army couldn't. They weren't wizards. There was only a small, elite order of wizards under Jagang's personal command who could still be alive. The war wizards."

"So let the Boundary come down," Cara said. "We'll capture their magic and turn it to growing apples for hungry children."

"Or something like that," Triana said.

"You don't understand. I am only a brisk hundred and twelve years old, and I'm still learning new facets of magic. There's no telling what Jagang and his forces could accomplish now. Even a thousand years ago, they nearly succeeded in taking over the world. They didn't call him Emperor Jagang for nothing."

"What stopped him?" Kahlan asked. "If he gets loose, can't we just use Amfortas's same magic to put him back?"

"My research hasn't yet gleaned how Amfortas erected the Boundary, or got Jagang inside it. Our best chance is to stop Darken Rahl from ever unleashing him. Now that we're here, he'll take no chances. He'll try to bring down the Boundary, as he did before at Hartland."

"Can you restore it?" Richard asked.

"I believe so. But only if the Veil is still torn. If it's repaired… I don't have the power to rip a new hole in it. All the Boxes of Orden exploding could only weaken the Veil."

"Well, we know Jagang's Boundary is in Westland," Kahlan said. "Otherwise, why would Darken Rahl be here?"

"I'd guess it's to the north," Cara said. "Past the Ven Mountains and the end of Hawker's Trail." She held up a map.

Kahlan rushed over to take it. There was a path drawn on it that led to a large X where Cara had described. "Where'd you get this?"

"Dahlia lent me a hand."

"You went into the enemy encampment, are you trying to get yourself killed!"

"If I died, I could no longer serve the Lord Rahl."

While Kahlan was still fixing Cara with a glare, Richard took the map from her. "Then we know what we have to do and where we have to do it. Everyone, find horses. We ride for the Boundary!"

Zedd looked longingly at the roast. "Are you sure we have to save the world… right this minute?"


	11. We're a long way from home Part 4

It was a long ride, especially at full gallop, but the horses were used to Richard's demands. The Mord'Sith's horses, recently purchased to replace the ones they'd donated to pull a robbed, stranded wagon, lagged behind, but they saw to that with judicious application of their Agiels. Cara patted her horse reassuringly. She didn't need to rely on that.

Kahlan, riding alongside her, watched Cara's hooded cloak flare up behind her. "Nice cape. I've only known you to wear leather and other leather."

"I can't accessorize now and then?"

"When I bought my last traveling dress, you told me that in the heat of battle, you might not recognize me and thus end up killing me."

"It was a compliment. You looked a lot better than you used to."

The trail they were on died away into roots and detritus. The trees started to hunch together like cold old men. The shadows reminded Cara of the Underworld. They were getting close. Up ahead, Richard signaled for a halt, and the team instantly stopped. He dismounted, went to a bed of leaves ahead of him, and stuck his sheathed sword in. It went in all the way, but he had to wrestle it out.

"Snake vine trap," he said.

"We can jump it," Triana replied confidently.

Richard looked at the white froth dribbling from the sides of her horse's mouth. "The ride's getting too difficult anyway."

"The Underworld has poisoned the land," Zedd said, banging two flints together. The sparks were green.

"All the more reason to be on foot," Richard said, helping Kahlan down. "I'd hate to be on a fearful horse when there's some monster about."

Kahlan giggled haplessly. Cara looked away so they couldn't see her eyes rolling.

"If you want to be careful, be careful of Darken Rahl." Zedd painfully got down from his horse, holding his back afterward and casting a few jealous glances at Kahlan.

"At least he'll be as delayed as we are."

"Do they always talk this much?" Hally asked Cara.

"Pretty much."

They tied the horses to the trees, Richard checking the knots. Unsurprisingly, he had an opinion on them. "This way," he demonstrated, "it'll give the horse more room to breathe."

Raina was indignant. "The knot will slip! They'll get away!"

"If we're not back in a few hours, we won't need them anyway."

Berdine set a hand on Raina's shoulder, thumb massaging the back of her neck. "Come, Raina, won't it comfort your rotting corpse to know that your horse at least will be able to go on living?"

Richard gave the horse some oats, looking disdainfully at the Agiel marks on its flank. "This is a nice horse. Where'd you get it?"

Triana clasped her hands behind her back proudly. "I obtained them, Lord Rahl. We got them from a horse merchant."

"He's alright, isn't he?"

"He's fine. We were quite fair with him. We did no harm."

"Ah. That's good." Richard started to turn. Stopped. "You did… pay him, correct?"

"Yes, Lord Rahl."

"Oh. Good." He started to turn again.

"We paid him with his life."

With a huff of air, Richard turned back around. "What now?"

"At first he wanted us to pay an outrageous price for them, but after we explained the situation, he gave them to us for free."

"Oh, so you told him we needed the horses to save the world." Richard nodded and turned around.

"No, we told him we would kill him if he didn't." Triana added a mollifying "Lord Rahl."

Richard turned around. "I thought you were under strict orders not to kill anyone."

"Yes, Lord Rahl. But he didn't know that."

"He didn't ask, either," Berdine pointed out.

Kahlan patted Richard on the back. "Gentle encouragement, dear, gentle encouragement." She faced the Mord'Sith. "It's good that you found a creative, non-killing solution to your problem…"

"And we didn't use our Agiels!" Berdine added.

"And that's good. But in the future, it'd be best to pay for horses."

"But… Cara said it was all right!"

Cara, who'd been trying to get a headstart into the woods without straying too far from the protection of the group (she wasn't Richard, after all), cringed.

Kahlan marched over to her, hands on her hips. Cara hated when she had her hands on her hips. "We will talk about this after we save the world."

Cara bowed her head. "Yes, Lady Rahl."

Kahlan looked from Cara to her ring.

"Will we also be talking about that after the world-saving?"

Kahlan stormed off, muttering "impossible woman" under her breath.

Triana came up to Cara. "You show more deference to her than to the Lord Rahl."

"Maybe she deserves it more."

"Maybe." She walked off. As she was headed for the group, Cara followed.

There was a green horizon. It was a three-hour hike there. Richard was set on making it in two. The hike wasn't the most arduous, but it had its own challenges. Cara didn't like it. The trees grew tall, but they grew wrong, coiling around rocks like pythons strangling their prey. Moss grew in thick, brown clumps the putrid color of mud, falling onto the ground with a disgusting sound and a worse noise. Roots, white and girthy, broke out of the ground like giant worms. And the wind made the trees sound like they were screaming.

Richard broke off walking sticks for all of them. He took point and Zedd brought up the rear, less out of concern for his safety than the fact that he was out of shape. Berdine and Raina walked side by side, shouldering against each other occasionally to see if they could knock the other off-balance.

"Nice day for a walk," Triana said, watching them. "And such a romantic view."

"Yes," Cara replied. "Checking for ambushes. Kinky." She considered walking with someone else. The Mord'Sith had paired up to cover the Lord Rahl in all directions. Pointman and rear guard. Master and slave.

Richard stopped to close his eyes. "Birdsong for ten miles. If we have company, they aren't using magic."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Berdine asked.

"Junior Beavers scoutmaster handbook."

Kahlan arched an eyebrow at ferreting something out of Richard, who hated talking about himself. Modesty. "You led a Junior Beaver troop?"

"It's a good way to pass on the Junior Beaver experience," Richard said defensively.

"I was a Junior Beaver," Cara said, breaking away from Triana.

"You were a girl scout?" Zedd asked, mounting a light jog to catch up. This he had to hear.

"I was a _Junior Beaver_," Cara emphasized. Girl scout was so… demeaning.

Zedd and Kahlan had a good laugh and Cara could see Triana's shoulders shaking.

"You? In the little shorts?"

"Selling cookies!" Zedd pointed out, making Kahlan laugh so loud she embarrassed herself.

Cara smiled along with them. It had been fun, spending all that time with Dahlia.

"It teaches you to respect nature," Richard crabbed, and Cara nodded alongside him.

Vines with an unpleasantly viscous resemblance to mucus grew between the trees. The Mord'Sith broke out their longknives to clear a swath. They didn't need that much space, but as an escape route, it was perfect. Richard cut through four vines at a time with each swing of the Sword of Truth. Zedd muttered about ancient, magical relics.

"If you want, you could always flame through the vines," Richard told him.

After one try, they all went back to cutting the vines. The smell was too foul.

After an hour they took a break to sharpen their blades. Kahlan poured water over her face. It ran down her dress.

Richard looked up from the longknife he was sharpening. As the Sword of Truth didn't need sharpening, Alina had conned him into doing hers. "Could you stop that? It's… distracting."

"It's supposed to be," she laughed.

Cara kept sharpening her knife.

After another half-hour of arduous labor, they came to a clearing. For a half-mile, all vegetation just stopped, giving into an ash-gray wasteland. The fires of the Underworld had shot through, burning it clean. Up ahead was the Boundary, a solid green fogbank. But it had ripples in it, like torn gossamer fluttering in the wind. Through it, they could see gathered shadows.

"Jagang hates the very idea of the Seeker," Zedd warned Richard. "A thousand years, with nothing to live for but hate… he'd set himself on fire if only you would burn with him."

"Great. As if I didn't have enough enemies, now I'm inheriting them!"

Zedd was pulling things from his bag, setting up two interlocking squares edged by strange objects. "Just a few minutes. No interruptions."

The Mord'Sith knew he wasn't talking about asking if he would like a glass of water. They took up position around him, Agiels drawn, so many at once that it sounded like one continuous scream. Richard paced uneasily, his sword set on his shoulder, fingers drumming on the hilt. Kahlan gave his arm a rub and walked over to Cara, who tried staring straight ahead like Darken Rahl's old honor guard had at the People's Palace. But she couldn't look away from Kahlan.

"Can we talk?"

"I can listen."

"Richard and I are getting married."

Cara nodded stiffly. "So? Everyone knows you're in love. So now you're saying you're in love in front of some elder. If that makes you happy, go ahead."

"I'd like you to be my maid of honor."

Cara bit her teeth. "I will serve however you wish, Lady Rahl."

"Now stop! If you want to go off and hunt boars from when I buy the dress until we're back from the honeymoon, that's fine, but just say so!"

"I'd like to go off and hunt boars from when you buy the dress until you're back from the honeymoon."

"Okay then."

"Good."

"Good."

"No, great."

"It is great."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"I am trying to concentrate here!" Zedd said out of the corner of his mouth before going back to chanting. Lines of green flame had formed between his relics, beginning to rise. The Boundary mirrored them, stitching itself together.

"There is a point," Kahlan whispered fiercely, "where it stops being about making allowances for your background and starts being about you wallowing in immaturity!"

"I wallow in immaturity? You practically play with dolls every time you imagine your future."

"Not true!"

"What will you name your second child?"

"Zedd if it's a boy, Kya if it's a girl… that's not the point!"

"This may take longer than I expected," Zedd said, causing them both to look over their shoulder.

"We're fine Zedd." Richard twisted his sword. "Just stay with it."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to go to the bathroom." The flames rose higher. "Keep not interrupting me."

Triana nudged Rikka to cover for her, then walked over to Cara. She took her by the shoulders. "We should take breaks in shifts. Cara and I will go first."

Kahlan huffed and covered her eyes. "Fine. Just… go."

Cara let herself be led back to the treeline before knocking Triana's hands away. Triana took hold of her again.

"If you have something to get rid of, take it out on me," she said.

Cara pushed her away again. "I'm not in the mood for your foreplay. Usually, I find it a little amusing, but right now, I could do without your obsession with me."

"I'm not seducing you. There's no time. I'm just letting you know that this is why we're trained against feelings."

"I do know that. I just don't care."

"If you start caring, I'll be there to take the pain away. Or at least replace it with the kind of pain you like."

"You're not worthy to get the stains out of Kahlan's dress."

"Are you?"

Cara dropped a hand to her Agiel. But no. That was what Triana wanted.

"She made me better," Cara said.

"Better for who?"

"I can better serve the Lord Rahl…" Cara shook her head. "I can better serve myself, as this."

"You're not serving yourself. You're serving her. She's broken you."

Cara's hand wrapped around Triana's throat. The Mord'Sith smiled. She'd never seen it coming.

"I am not broken," Cara hissed.

"Prove it." Not making any effort to remove the hand from her throat, Triana pulled Cara closer. Cara's cloak ruffled between them. "Prove it." Feather-light, Triana brushed her lips against Cara's, like a gourmet waving a meal under someone's nose. "Prove it to me." Her tongue ran over Cara's mouth like a flint over steel.

Cara forced the next move, squeezing Triana's slender neck as she devoured her lips, so ravenous that Triana moaned aloud. Cara backed away, her hand still on Triana's throat, but if anyone were there, it wouldn't fool them.

"I thought I was better than this," Cara said.

"I thought you would never come back to me," Triana replied. "My sister."

There was a familiar whistling. A more familiar kind of scream. All that changed was the particular. Cara had never heard Kahlan scream before. She turned, her lips still warm from Triana, to see Kahlan crumpling. A dozen more dacras were flying in, but the half-circle of Mord'Sith around Zedd protected him. Cara hadn't been there. She'd failed Kahlan.

She ran through the field of fire, dacras thrown and deflected. One nearly hit her, but her magic pushed it aside with a wrathful thought. Then she was beside Kahlan's body, across from Richard. The dacra protruded from the Mother Confessor like some monstrous infection.

"She'll be okay." Richard was asking more than telling. "Cara, she'll be okay."

Cara looked into Kahlan's eyes. "They're coming," the Confessor said.

Cara gripped her Agiels. She couldn't feel the pain. Not through this. "I will kill them all for you."

Richard stayed behind, holding Kahlan's hand as she pulled the dacra out, by herself, so the magic couldn't kill them both. It was alright. She preferred it that way. She would rather hold an Agiel than someone else. There was only so much pain an Agiel could inflict, was the difference.

One foot in front of the other. In the woods, a hornet's nest of dacras had been disturbed. They flew out to sting her. Cara held her hand in front of her and her magic, pain and rage and sheer bloody-minded determination, did its work. The dacras splashed in the dirt and chipped into the trees and soared up like birds taking flight. None of them so much as cast a breeze on her.

Now she could see them. Sisters, so many, too many, lined up between the trees like a forest fire. Dahlia was leading them. By some sixth sense, Cara felt the air on either side of her solidify, giving her strength. Triana was beside her. She'd brought Alina. Their Agiels sang together.

Ten feet away and Dahlia stopped, smiling with the kind of fanaticism Cara might've seen in a mirror once. Lightning bled out of the world and struck an ash-white tree. Cara's eyes flicked from it to its origin, Darken Rahl. "Down!" she yelled, tackling Triana.

The tree exploded and Cara felt her leathers pinch in a dozen places. Alina gasped wetly. When Cara looked up, she saw that the shrapnel from the blast had skewered her. Four Dragon Corps quads were charging for Kahlan, led by Darken Rahl. Cara got to her feet to find the Sisters surrounding her. Triana let Cara worry about it, snapped Alina's neck. They stood together, back to back.

"Want to put our Agiels in her ears with me?" Triana asked, glaring at Dahlia. She still had blood on her hands.

"No. Dahlia's mine," Cara said.

"I don't see your name on me," Dahlia replied, circling.

"Not yet." Cara reached down to take her longknife in her other hand. No magic now. She wanted to leave a mark like Dahlia had left.

"You were my best friend," Dahlia said. "How could I hurt you?" She turned to her Sisters. "Hurt her."

They moved in. One was faster than the others, or more suicidal. Cara didn't bother with the Agiel's magic, she just let it cave her skull in. Triana caught half-a-dozen dacras coming at Cara's back and deflected them, scattering the Sisters. Dahlia was gone, running to join Rahl's charge.

"Back to the Lord Rahl!" Cara ordered. She and Triana charged.

They worked as well together as Cara ever had with Kahlan. 

* * *

Dahlia nearly looked over her shoulder, but didn't. She had to keep her eyes on the prize. It was a shame. As a connoisseur of death, she considered Cara in action a thing of beauty. And it wasn't like she would be doing any encores. 

* * *

"I'll kill you!" a Sister screamed as she lunged.

Triana batted her out of the air like a cat with a piece of string. "No," she replied.

They marked their trail with dead bodies and screams and Cara felt that hand clenching her heart give her a break. Maybe Triana was right about her. 

* * *

Richard had been ready the moment Kahlan got the dacra out, kicking it away and bandaging the wound. Then he'd pulled her to her feet and she'd plunged a dagger into the heart of the D'Haran about to skewer Richard. With one arm around Kahlan, keeping her up, and the other moving the Sword of Truth, they fought the endless river of enemies trying to force them back into the Boundary.

"Just like old times, eh?" Kahlan said, blocking a blow so that Richard could finish him off.

"I can think of a few things that've changed for the better." He kissed her cheek in the half-second he had before he needed to block a crossbow bolt. 

* * *

"Just a few more minutes!" Zedd cried. The green flames bent inward, wrapping around him like an igloo.

The Mord'Sith around him weathered the Sisters of the Dark like boulders being pounded by the surf. The phalanx they had formed was impenetrable, the briefest touch of their Agiels like being scourged by a cat o' nine tails. The fear of pain made its own bottleneck. Dahlia watched the way the Mord'Sith protected each other, none more so than Berdine and Raina.

"Her," she said to the D'Haran she'd pulled away from the fight with Richard and Kahlan. He aimed his crossbow and fired.

Berdine fell.

Raina called her name and ran to her, leaving Dahlia to slip inside the Seeker's ranks. 

* * *

Cara and Triana were only yards behind Dahlia, but there was an entire quad between them, which meant the women had to fight two D'Harans at once. But Cara still had enough of an eye on Dahlia to see her look over her shoulder and wink before she threw her dacra.

The gathering thunder of Zedd's chanting stopped all at once. Despite the clash of swords and the screams of the dying, the silence was deafening. It was like the Boundary was letting out a death-cry, drowning out all other sound.

And the Boundary began to drain into the ground, the Underworld, like a bath with the stopper pulled out.

Dahlia turned away from it, her smile wide, her eyes sparkling. "This world belongs to the Keeper."

Cara faced her, longknife held out like a challenge. "Let's go see him together, Dahlia."


	12. We're a long way from home Part 5

"Watch my back," Cara ordered Triana.

The Mord'Sith responded with a growl in her ear, a hand at her backside. "Always a pleasure."

Battle doubling as foreplay. Cara loved the efficiency of it.

Ahead of them, Dahlia pulled two dacras from behind her back. She rotated them, backwards, then forwards, letting the glare wink at Cara. "You remember that doll of yours that got all its stuffing ripped out? That was me."

Cara brought up both hands, knife held horizontally in the classic fighting grip. "Dahlia, I'm going to send you to meet the Keeper. One piece at a time."

Dahlia covered the space between them in a heartbeat. She slashed at Cara, who blocked and counterattacked. No sooner was a blade blocked than it orbited around and returned at another angle. They stood like statues, the only movement the sweat trickling down their faces and the knife-hands blurring between them. Parries came so fast they might've been a string of firecrackers going off. Cara smiled at her as sparks flew from every contact. With a sudden roar, Dahlia whipped her other dacra around. Cara threw herself back in a heart-skipped panic. Not quick enough. She landed with a gash straight across her cheek.

Cara darted back, leading Dahlia through a grove of shriveled trees, letting them slow Dahlia as the Sister slashed through them. Cara jabbed at her face, Dahlia blocked with her forearm, and when they kicked at each other, their feet met. They glimpsed each others' faces for a moment before pushing off each other, staggering back to their corners.

Alina was dead. Kahlan was wounded. Darken Rahl was winning and Jagang was still pushing through the Boundary, ripping through it like lightning inside a stormcloud. And Cara's oldest friend was trying to kill her. She focused on the anger, but it wasn't easy to call up through the stinging in her eyes and the sick thought of how Dahlia would scream.

"How's Kahlan doing?" Dahlia asked. "That was my dacra, you know."

Cara lunged, and Dahlia offered no defense. She moved aside at the last moment, letting the longknife plunge into her shoulder as her dacra slipped into Cara's stomach.

"Your magic is mine," Dahlia moaned.

"You can't handle it."

Dahlia stuffed her other dacra in Cara's mouth. The metallic taste covered her tongue, forcing all her attention on Dahlia.

All around them, the battle raged, wizard's fire, swords ringing, Agiels screaming. It was pointless now that Jagang was coming, but no one stopped. Revenge was a strong motivator.

"Beg," Dahlia said. "Beg for your life."

Cara licked the dacra's blade. "If you want me to beg, you'll have to do better than that."

Dahlia smiled. She leaned against Cara, forcing her against an oak. Her forearm rested across Cara's throat as she drew the bloody dacra from between Cara's lips. Then her forehead was against Cara's, almost close enough to taste the blood filling her mouth. Dahlia held the dacra's tip up to Cara's eye, then traced it down over her cheek and lower. Cara felt a sharp point scrape across her leathers.

"If you can't kill me, Dahlia, just say so. You're boring me."

Cara felt the point dig between her breasts, over her heart, just hard enough to penetrate the leather. 

* * *

A horse trotted out of the Boundary, its eyes still reflecting the green of the Underworld. The fighting stopped. Just like that, all eyes were on the breach. The Boundary had fallen to reveal a world of corpses and bones, blood and fire. And the builders were leaving.

The rider looked into the souls of the men who watched him in stunned silence. "Revenge begins here," he said in a whisper everyone could hear. His sword came out of his scabbard and sliced through the three nearest D'Harans. 

* * *

Darken Rahl backed through the ranks of his Dragon Corps, letting the war wizards carve through them. There was nothing professional or cold in their bloodspilling. It had all the exuberance of a child stretching his legs after a long ride.

He knelt down and calmly recited the oath of the Imperial Order. By the time he was done, the war wizards were upon him. Their armor had long ago rusted away. They now wore flaps of leathered skin, held together by bones. Rahl could see the occasional face crying out in silent anguish.

"You will serve?" one asked.

Rahl nodded. 

* * *

Dahlia took her attention off Cara as the screaming started. That was her only mistake. It was enough.

Triana stepped in and sank her Agiel into the base of Dahlia's spine. While Dahlia was frozen with pain, Cara took hold of both dacras and yanked them from her body with one grunt. Triana kept the Agiel on Dahlia, making steam rise from her magicked flesh.

"That's enough," Cara said. Her voice was slow in making it out of her chest.

Triana let Dahlia slump to the ground.

"Find the Lord Rahl," Cara ordered.

"Come with me," Triana replied.

Cara held the wound in her midsection. "No… I think I'll wait here a while."

Triana nodded tightly and moved off. Cara watched her go, then tossed the dacras onto Dahlia. "When I kill you, it's going to be in a fair fight."

Dahlia just drooled.

Bracing herself, Cara took an Agiel in both hands and pressed it to her wound. 

* * *

In a heartbeat, the land had gone from battlefield to slaughterhouse. Jagang's war wizards were attacking everyone like rabid dogs loosed on rats. Some fought back. Most ran. The Sisters of the Dark let their Han fly and the war wizards returned fire. It was like watching a child with a slingshot attack a catapult.

Triana ignored the bloodletting to get to the Lord Rahl's side. He was carrying Kahlan.

"I trust we're leaving?"

"_Yes_," Richard said. "Get Zedd."

Triana ran, scooped him up from under the hooves of a rearing horse. Fortunately, he weighed a great deal less than his eating would indicate. "Sisters, fall back! Cover the Lord Rahl's retreat!"

Then Jagang barked out harsh orders in his thousand-year-old tongue, mirrored by Darken Rahl. Stop fighting. Get the Seeker.

The fighting between Rahl's men and Jagang's died down as they searched the smoking, bleeding battlefield for Richard. The Mord'Sith made a break for it. Behind them, the D'Harans pursued and the Sisters threw a storm of dacras. Jagang's army waited for them to get out of the way before they unleashed wizard's fire.

"Where's Cara?" Kahlan asked, her arms around Richard's neck.

"Cara's dead," Triana answered.

Richard staggered to a stop as if gut-punched. Kahlan shut her eyes for a long, tearful moment and then opened them jet black. "I know how to honor her," she said.

Richard turned them around so they were facing the charge. Kahlan raised one hand and the D'Harans stopped in their tracks; another, and the Sisters of the Dark froze.

"Death to Jagang!" Kahlan ordered. "Death to Darken Rahl!"

A war wizard cursed blackly and raised his hand. Magic lanced out from him, burning straight through the Confessed D'Harans, coming right at Richard as he sheltered Kahlan with his body. No escape. Then Nyda stepped in front of them. When the magic hit her outstretched hand, she caught it. Almost instantly, sweat broke out across her face.

"Kill him and be done with it!" Triana ordered.

"I can't! He's too strong!"

Triana clenched her teeth. It hadn't happened in five hundred years, but they all knew what happened when a Mord'Sith captured more magic than she could control.

"Nyda, you are the first Mord'Sith to die for the new Lord Rahl."

"I accept the honor."

Triana nodded and left. Nyda concentrated on the war wizard's Han as it grew in her outstretched palm, beginning to scorch her skin. It wouldn't be long now.

"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive…" 

* * *

In the woods, the screaming hadn't stopped so much as been suborned to a chorus of laughter, singing, and flesh parting. It was getting closer.

The explosion, at least, woke Dahlia up.

"Are you alright?" Cara asked.

Dahlia nodded.

"Good." She kicked Dahlia in the stomach, driving a hard gasp out of her. "Touch Kahlan again and I'll put an Agiel through your eye."

Cara ran as best she could, an awkward hobbling gait, to join the V formation of Mord'Sith protecting the wounded. All around them were disembodied limbs and broken swords flying back as the Confessed were slaughtered. Cara saw a Sister of the Dark skewered to the ground with a halberd; then its magic washed over her, leaving only a skull and spine to be hoisted up, hanging from the halberd's thorn.

A war wizard cut between her and Kahlan. He was thick around as an anvil, his armor intact and rusty red. In his hand was the throat of a slender young Sister of the Dark. She screamed as the suit of armor opened up like an iron maiden and the hand forced her inside. The suit closed on her. Red mist sprayed out of vents in the metal, running down the sides to lather the armor a fresh crimson. Not rust, then.

Its horned helm swiveled around with a rusty creak. The darkness where his eyes should've been seemed to stare into Cara.

She ducked behind a tree, hoping she hadn't been seen. A moment later, she peeked out. The knight was lurching toward her with ominous, jittery relentlessness. Inside, Cara could hear bones rattling around.

She ran, trying to keep Kahlan's long white robes in sight. Then she noticed Dahlia was running next to her. The Sister glanced at Cara briefly, then put on a burst of speed to pass her, pushing a low-hanging branch out of the way as she did. It snapped back, catching Cara in the face. She flipped back and landed on her spine. Upside-down, she saw the knight running her down. Cara leapt to her feet and saw a glimmer in the trees; Dahlia's dacra, pulled back to be thrown. Feeling the knight bearing down on her, Cara led it toward Dahlia.

"Little help?" Cara deadpanned as she ran past Dahlia.

Dahlia threw. Her dacra hit the knight's kneecaps with enough force to shear through an elm tree, but all it got was trampled underfoot. Dahlia cursed the Creator and ran after Cara. Behind them, the knight shouldered aside tree trunks and snapped through branches like an entire camp of lumberjacks hard at work.

Cara noticed Dahlia was beside her again. She thrust out with her Agiel as Dahlia did the same with her dacra. Their attacks bounced off the tree that suddenly passed between them. A moment later, the knight punched through that the same tree.

Cara holstered her Agiel and ran faster, trees blurring by. Dahlia was still keeping up so well Cara could hear the steady exhales dropped to her chest. She would've made a fine slave.

Dahlia jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "I think we lost him."

Cara looked back, ready for an attack. The knight was shrinking in the distance like an ice cube in the sun. "He's not chasing us." She halted, grabbing Dahlia's arm to stop her too. "If he's not chasing us, _what is?_"

The knight's visor opened by small gears at its ears. Underneath was a waxen, vaguely greenish face. It fell off.

Blanket-thin, the face caught the wind and oozed up like a piece of parchment in a windstorm. It fluttered toward them, quick as a bird. Behind it, more faces emerged like pages being torn from a book.

Cara watched. "I don't suppose your friend _the Keeper_ taught you a strategy for this."

Dahlia shrugged. "You distract them, I'll escape with my life."

"Why would I _ooof!_" Cara doubled over from the sucker punch Dahlia had just delivered.

The first face flew in. Cara's Agiel ripped it apart. Another face plastered itself to her. It had the exact texture and smell as butcher's paper. Cara ripped at it as the face molded itself to her features. Two more faces slapped onto her hands, blunting her fingers. She raked them on a tree trunk, hoping the bark would rip them. The one on her face was trying to force itself down her throat. She opened her mouth, then bit down when it took the bait. It tasted like moldy cheese. Cara spat it out, bit off the faces on her hands, then tugged the rest of the rubbery flesh away. It came away to reveal to her that the knight had caught up.

It butted her into a tree so hard the bark on the other side went flying, then rumbled toward her again. From where she had landed, Cara interrupted it with a boot to the groin. The hit echoed hollowly.

"No wonder you're upset." She lunged up to grab the knight's visor and wrenched it to the side, ran some more. Behind her, above her, she heard the sound of air whispering through the faces' eyeholes and mouths. She jumped roots, ducked under logs, ignored the branches clawing at her face. Saw Dahlia, swinging at a storm of faces with a log.

Cara leapt into the fray, Agiel screaming through the air. The faces crumpled up at the first touch of magic.

"They're not very good at pain management," Cara commented.

"So you've demonstrated. And you assisted me because…?"

"I _saved_ you because you have something I want." Cara drew her Agiels. "I'm tired of running from this thing. You want a piece?"

"No. I want the whole thing." Dahlia held up her dacra.

The knight charged through the underbrush and without hesitation, they raked their weapons over it. Sparks flew off the knight's chest. It did nothing. Cara pulled Dahlia away from its swinging gauntlet. The arc ripped through a tree, which fell, branches slapping at Cara and Dahlia.

"Nice plan," Dahlia commented acidly.

"I may have spent too much time with Richard," Cara admitted.

The knight stepped over the fallen tree, the mandibles of its helm opening and closing.

Cara looked around for somewhere else to run. Forest in all directions except one, where she saw sparkling blue water. A lake. "Come on!" She grabbed Dahlia's hand and pulled her along.

The knight followed.

"Would you let me go? I do understand the fundamental principles of running, you know…"

Cara let go of her hand. They had emerged onto a pier, built of as much dry rot as wood. The knight stalked after them and they backed up.

"What are we waiting for?" Dahlia demanded.

"Shh."

"Cara!"

"Trust me!" Cara whispered harshly. "At least when it comes to killing things."

Dahlia fell silent. They yielded more ground. A few feet away, the pier ended.

The knight took one more step. The plank under it creaked. Immediately, Cara stepped forward, pulling Dahlia along. The knight stopped. Grabbed them both by the neck.

"This was a bad plan!" Dahlia wheezed.

"I thought you Sisters of the Dark were looking forward to death."

"Not with you!"

The armor opened up. The bones of the last Sister of the Dark spilled out. With a creak that sounded horribly like satisfaction, the armor picked them up and brought them toward its opened chest…

And their combined weight drove the armor through the plank it was standing on. The knight caught on its hip, upper body protruding from the dock. Cara kicked her way free and was looking at Dahlia when the knight fell all the way through, dragging the Sister down into the lake with it. 

* * *

The water was startlingly clear in all directions, more like a light casting a strange glow over the land. Dahlia looked down to see the water melting into darkness. The knight held onto her ankle, completely motionless. Flakes of blood were peeling off it like dead leaves. The knight hit the lakebed and sunk in, still holding onto her. A skull was glowing phosphorously inside the helm.

Dahlia jammed her dacra through the visor, the blade chiseling away a chunk of the armor's ridge. The knight's fingers closed like a vice, sending pangs up her leg. Dahlia stabbed at the gauntlet, trying to find an opening to pry, but the tip just bounced off with a ponderous underwater sound. The skull became a hallucinogenic deathshead grin. Dahlia lifted her legs, kicking at the armor with all her strength, but it only got a hollow echo.

The knight rolled over, pressing Dahlia into the silt, burying her in it. In a last-ditch effort, Dahlia put the dacra to her leg and began to cut.

She felt hair first, brushing against her cheek. Dahlia would've thought it was a fish, if it weren't so soft. Then Cara's arms shot past her, jabbing an Agiel inside the visor Dahlia had broken. Dahlia could've sworn the skull screamed before imploding into a white cloud. The gauntlet went limp, fingers actually falling off the hand. Dahlia wrenched her arm away. Cara's hands gripped his flesh, not harshly. Led her up.

The surface was as they'd left it. Pieces of the pier were making a slow pilgrimage to the other side. Fish ghosted around just under the surface, still disturbed. For a moment, they just treaded water, taking deep breaths. Then Dahlia said "What took you so long?"

Cara whirled around to splash her. She was deathly serious, looking offended when Dahlia laughed and splashed her back. She dunked Cara and would've kept her under indefinitely if she hadn't stuck her with an Agiel. Cara surfaced a few feet away, the Agiel between them. They stared at each other, dripping wet, Dahlia's sodden robes outlining her body like a caress.

Bubbles rose to the surface. They were coming from the center of the lake.

"Let's not do laps," Dahlia said.

"No."

They swam ashore. Cara came out staring at her wet leather with an expression that would've made Dahlia laugh if she weren't pretty sure that Cara would kill her if she did. And she couldn't have that fight. Not now that they were in the same boat.

She used her Han to light the pier on fire, glaring at Cara as if daring her to protest. When she didn't, the Sister sat down by the fire and waited to dry off. Cara sat down beside her, eyes daring her to comment. Dahlia just wrung out her robes.

"Why'd you save me?" she asked when the last drop of water had deserted her clothes.

"Who said I did?"

Dahlia turned in time to see Cara's fist thundering across her face. She hit the ground, dirt plastering to her damp body, and felt Cara's knee stabbing into the small of her back, keeping her down. She automatically called upon her Han, but nothing happened. Too late she realized she had just handed her magic over to Cara.

Dahlia smiled into the earth. "Don't make the same mistake I did, dear. Do it. Send me to the Underworld, where life makes sense."

Cara's voice slipped into her ear like a knife. "Life makes sense there because it doesn't exist, you little moron. I'm a Mord'Sith. I know the best way to torture someone."

Dahlia felt the colder-than-cold magic of a Rada'Han snapped down on her neck. She screamed in realization.

Cara jerked her to her feet. "That's right, Dahlia. You'll live. You might not enjoy it, but you'll live."


	13. We're a long way from home Part 6

There were four horses and ten empty reins, dangling broken from the trees they'd been tied to.

"What happened to the horses?" Richard demanded. Even as he said it, he was loading Kahlan onto his horse.

Triana took it in stride. "They must have spooked. Probably weren't used to magic."

"Alright. Triana, form a defensive perimeter or find someplace to hide. We'll round up the horses and come back—"

"Lord Rahl, there is no time. We can't hide from them. We can't hold them off." She snapped to the Mord'Sith. "Berdine, Raina, Rikka, Hally, double up on the horses. The rest of you, take as many with you as you can."

Richard grabbed her arm. "I didn't give that order!"

"You will. It's the only way."

"Leave me!" Berdine interrupted. "I'm wounded."

Raina was supporting Berdine. She put a hand over her mouth. "A flesh wound, nothing more."

"Raina's my strongest fighter. Without Berdine, she has nothing to fight for." Triana gestured for them to mount Cara's horse.

Richard grabbed her again, roughly forcing her to look at him. "We're not leaving anyone behind."

A woman's scream ripped through the forest. Jagang was working his way through the Sisters of the Dark.

"Lord Rahl, if I must, I will kill you, carry you from here, and revive you with the Breath of Life."

"We can't leave!" Richard insisted, each word forced out.

Triana grabbed him by his vest. When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous and Cara. "Haven't you gotten enough Mord'Sith killed today?"

Richard's head sagged to the side. Lost.

"Richard," Kahlan called. He looked up from trying to come up with a plan that would save everyone. "We live for you. Sometimes we die for you. It's horrible, but there are more horrible things."

A D'Haran soldier was hurled into a tree, wrapping around it like a length of rope.

Richard mounted up behind Kahlan. They rode. A minute later they heard a string of explosions, one after the other. Richard winced each time, like he was being struck. He wheeled to a stop miles away, looking back at the rising smoke. Kahlan squeezed his hand, as if it were something that had happened to him, not something he'd done. Hania. Solvig. Another Mord'Sith whose name he'd never even learned. His fault.

"Lord Rahl, we must go!" Triana called, not slowing down.

Richard whipped his horse until he was riding alongside her. "You and your sisters are going to die in bed! Get used to the idea!" 

* * *

Cara walked in silence, one hand comfortably hitched to her holstered Agiel, Dahlia trailing behind her. She found the quiet—scanning the shadows for war wizards, trying to read Dahlia's feelings from the fall of her boots—disconcerting like nothing else. It felt… taboo to be looking at Dahlia and not be planning her demise. She didn't feel Dahlia's eyes on her, so maybe Dahlia felt the same way.

"Try to keep up," Cara said, feeling some drag on Dahlia's leash.

"I am trying!" Dahlia shot back.

"Then start _succeeding_."

"Maybe you would like to carry the elk then." Dahlia dropped it on the ground. Blood squirted from where Cara's arrow had hit. "I don't see why you even had to kill an elk, much less make me drag it around."

"Because we'll need food, and all of the animals are running that way." Cara pointed. "We're going this way." She pointed in the opposite direction. "So either we take the elk with us or we eat blackberries."

"And you hate the taste of blackberries."

Cara made a sour face. "Not everything changes. Now pick the elk up and let's go. Unless you'd like me to carry it myself… rendering you useless…"

Dahlia always had been a fast learner. "I'll carry it."

"Good." Cara waited for Dahlia to settle the weight on her shoulders, then started marching again, leaving little room for slash in Dahlia's leash.

"And why are we headed towards whatever it is that's depopulated the forest?"

Cara turned and pulled hard on the leash, jerking Dahlia up so they were face to face. "I'm curious." 

* * *

They had already gone over the plan by the time they got into Hartland. The Mord'Sith reared their horses and Rikka rode right into the church to ring the bell, but Richard only stopped when he reached the healer's lawn. He carried Kahlan into the hut, while Berdine and Zedd leaned against each other. A moment later, the healer emerged from one end of the hut to call for her apprentices, while Richard strode out the other end. He pulled himself up on the town crier's podium, sagged for a moment before gathering himself. "Everyone! Everyone, I need you to listen for a moment."

They were stopping, but not fast enough for Raina's liking. Unsettled by Berdine's injury, she called out "Bow down to the Lord Rahl! Show proper respect!"

Richard sagged even more. "Cara, it's okay… Raina. Listen, everyone! An army is riding for us, they possess powerful magic. We need to leave immediately for the mountains. There, we can take shelter in Castle Invictus. Grab what food and clothes you can, a mount if you've got it, we leave in fifteen minutes."

They stared at him, dumbstruck. Raina looked like she could start throwing people to Invictus. One of the elders cleared his throat. "Begging your pardon, Master Cypher, but you leave for years and now you come back, affiliating with loose women and a dirty old man, and tell us you've killed a tyrant but not really and now we have to leave our homes—"

"It's Master Rahl," Richard interrupted. He pointed at a cart of cabbages and it was consumed by wizard's fire. "You can leave because you're afraid of them or afraid of me. I really don't care." 

* * *

The poor left first. It was the rich who took the longest, trying to take everything with them. The Mord'Sith disabused them of that. The wounded came last. Kahlan, Berdine, and Zedd, bandaged hastily, loaded into a stout wagon with a little boy who'd lost his sight and an old man with the smoke sickness. Triana took the reins.

"Protect them with your life, above even mine," Richard said.

"Cara told us those were our standing orders." Even through Triana's stillness, Richard could feel her sorrow. He'd comfort her later.

He took the feed-bag from his horse and rode to the front of the line. It was going to be a long journey. 

* * *

Cara liked walking with Dahlia. She was still in competition with Dahlia-who could set the fastest pace, who couldn't keep up-but it wasn't as stressful somehow. In her head, a voice that sounded very much like Darken Rahl was demanding to know what she was going to do with Dahlia, but she put that off with the same virulent need that had once driven her toward Kahlan. She couldn't work with Dahlia and plot her death, even if she was doing just that. And Dahlia wasn't the worst enemy she'd ever faced. She had a sort of dignity, a hardness Cara found appealing. If she had to lose, it would be almost alright if it were to her.

Of course, it wouldn't be just to her, it'd be to Darken Rahl and the Keeper and all the others that her teeth clenched just to think about. So she wouldn't lose.

Cara stopped. The leash had grown taut, even with the additional slack she'd let out. Had she gotten that far ahead of Dahlia? She listened, but couldn't hear her moving through the brush, and finally turned around.

As she walked back to Dahlia, Cara kept one hand carefully still by her Agiel. She needn't have bothered. Dahlia was lying down, braced against the elk's corpse. She was pulling her robes this way and that, looking down it at her skin.

"I don't recall ordering you to rest," Cara said, not getting any response. She moved closer, eyeing the way Dahlia pulled her clothing open. "Are you hurt?"

"You tell me." Dahlia let her robes fall back over her. "They're called breasts, by the way." She slumped back against the elk. "In the water, that beast stuck me with something. It's enchanted."

"Show me."

Dahlia looked doubtfully at Cara, who held up her end of the leash in response. Dahlia turned onto her side, pulling up her upper robes to reveal a festering wound in her back.

Cara looked away. "That doesn't look good."

"It doesn't _feel_ good either!" Dahlia snapped. Then, shaking her head at her own lack of discipline, she pulled out her dacra.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm getting it out."

Dahlia was moving the blade in when she felt Cara's hand on her wrist. Cara pushed it away. "I'll do it."

Dahlia blinked. "Between stabbing myself until the pain stops and letting you help me, I'll take the stabbing."

"It wasn't a request. And if I wanted to kill you, I'd do it."

Dahlia crossed her arms, but kept her back to Cara. Cara knelt down beside her, taking the leash off and setting it aside so it wouldn't get in the way. The wound was in Dahlia's lower back, just to one side of her spine. A clear, viscous fluid tinted orange was seeping out. Cara smelled it, then wiped it away with her sleeve.

"The spell is producing a toxin in your body. Painful?"

"Yes!" Dahlia said harshly, then amended it to a softer "It is."

Cara pulled out her Agiel. "Whatever magic it is, it's not as strong as an Agiel. I'll drive it out, sterilize the wound. It'll hurt."

Dahlia laughed. "What do you care?"

Cara pressed her Agiel just to the side of the wound. Dahlia groaned, one arm flying out to grab a tree for support. Cara pressed on the Agiel harder. Dahlia doubled over and they heard something churning inside her. Something glimmered wetly in the darkness of Dahlia's wound.

"This will hurt more," Cara said, apologetic.

"Just get it over with."

Cara jammed her Agiel into the other side of the wound. Dahlia hissed, clasping both hands to a thick branch. It cracked immediately.

A slug-like parasite, all jaws and feelers, emerged from Dahlia's wound. Cara immediately caught it in her gloved hand and pulled it away, snapping the tendrils still connecting it to Dahlia's body. As soon as the last one went, the parasite turned into a curved metal spike, only a dab of blood revealing what it had once been.

Dahlia laid down on the elk, eyes closed. She didn't move as Cara took gauze and tape from her belt, bandaged the wound, then carefully drew her robes over it. By the time she was done, Dahlia had caught her breath.

"Here," Cara said, holding the spike out to her. "Souvenir."

Dahlia took it, turning it over analytically in her hands. "How do you destroy it?"

"Break it."

Dahlia set it down on a rock. Then she stomped on it so hard that the rock cracked underneath it.

Cara stood up. "You've very good with pain," she said, then pivoted on her heel. There was a mountain close enough to loom over them, and smoke was issuing from its peak. "There's our destination."

"You want to head _toward_ a volcano?"

"It's not a volcano. The smoke's the wrong color. It's a mining operation. Jagang is digging for something. I'm not going to let him have it."

Dahlia picked up the elk. It was still a way's travel. "I'm ready to go."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Cara asked, throwing Dahlia's end of the leash to her.

Dahlia never looked away from Cara as she attached it to her Rada'han.


	14. We're a long way from home Part 7

Castle Invictus was exactly as Richard remembered it. Unfortunately, he remembered it as being full of dust and cobwebs. He'd set some of the refugees on cleaning it, but they were being insolently slow, obviously expecting him to resolve things before they had to spend real time under siege. It made him want to turn the Mord'Sith on them. That made him scour his hand against the side of his head.

"Rikka, how are we set for supplies?"

The Mord'Sith subtly snapped to attention when he spoke to her. It was creepy. With Cara, his words had always bounced off a wall of sarcasm. Somehow, he preferred that to this… deference. "With rationing, we'll last a week. We could buy a few days by putting down the—"

"No," Richard looked down from the balcony at the crowd in the courtyard. It was a mile-long and fifty feet wide, but with the refugees dumping their things in "campsites", nearly all of it was taken up. They'd just managed to leave enough space for a latrine. "See what you can do about finding a barracks, somewhere to spread the people out. If they stay that cramped together, there's bound to be problems."

"Yes, Lord Rahl."

He winced.

Richard had taken over the keep for himself, relocating the wounded to the beds inside and allowing the Mord'Sith free rein inside. With the armory, storehouse, and water well within, it had to be tightly controlled. Besides, Kahlan was in there.

Zedd came out onto the balcony, getting shoulder-checked by Rikka as she passed. He grumbled, but didn't pick a fight. "Richard, Kahlan's going to be fine," he said, easily able to predict Richard's first question. "She's resting now."

Richard nodded, playing the stoic, but feeling something uncurl and ease from his gut to his shoulders. "That's good. And you?"

"I've been around for a hundred years. It'll take more than a little sharp metal to put me away." He sat down heavily. "But not much more."

Richard turned around, seating himself on the balustrade of the balcony. "We can't stay here. Even if we could hold out, there's nothing to stop Jagang from attacking the Midlands. We need a way to stop him."

"As you saw, his men are protected by powerful magic. It'd take a miracle to beat him."

"How did Amfortas do it?"

"I don't know."

"Then go back to your research. Get whoever you can to help you, but we need an answer now."

"Richard, I can't. The books are back in town, at the inn."

Richard took a deep breath, and deeply missed having Cara around to vocalize what everyone else left unsaid. "Alright. You're in charge. I'll be right back."

He stepped back into the keep. Naturally, Triana was waiting for him. Since Cara's death, she'd buried herself in his protection, rarely more than a handspan from him. He nodded to her and picked up his bow and quiver.

"Going mouse-hunting?" Triana asked. "I've heard some of the old ones complaining."

"No. Going back to town. You want anything?"

"Explain," she said simply.

"Zedd's books are back there. We need them if we're going to beat Jagang."

"Alright. I'll take Rikka and Hally."

"No, you won't." Richard checked the slide on his scabbard. As always, the sword came free easily. "You'll stay here and protect Kahlan. I won't allow any more of you to die."

"It's our job," Triana said, an equally simple statement.

"Find a new line of work."

He made for the door and Triana got in his way. "We have said we are free. That you will not use us as Darken Rahl did."

"Which is why you're not coming."

"If I am free, then I am free to accompany you."

"Triana," he huffed.

"If you would prefer I be a housewife raising urchins, then order it. If you would prefer I be free, then let me use my freedom as I wish. As Cara would wish."

Richard's jaw clamped. "You can come. Rikka and Hally stay."

"Acceptable. I'll tell Raina she's in charge."

"I already told Zedd he was in charge."

"Yes. I'll tell Raina she's in charge." 

* * *

Cara had never been good at cooking. Never had to be. From her very beginnings as a Mord'Sith, she'd been able to sway and intimidate others into preparing her meals. So it was now, watching Dahlia prepare the meat Cara had provided.

"Nice night," Cara said.

"It'll rain any minute now," Dahlia returned.

They were in a cave, a hole in one of the foothills that cropped up near their destination. Of course, Dahlia was being snippy, just because Cara had her pulling her weight. The elk was being roasted on a spit, which Dahlia was turning.

"I like the rain," Cara said, watching a storm cloud ignite. Lightning forked downward to claw at the ground.

"The rain makes people cold, makes them sick, overflows dams and floods entire villages… in the Underworld…"

"I'm tired of you talking now," Cara said. A dark cloud lit up, lightning flaring majestically inside it. "Is there _anything_ you like about not being dead?"

Dahlia looked at her for a moment. "I heard some pretty music once."

Cara sat herself down at a huff. After a moment, she said what Kahlan would say. "Tell me about it."

"It was during Darken Rahl's reign. I was sent from the Palace to look for a young wizard. On my journey, I came across a group of people singing to a man who looked like Darken Rahl, while he pretended to be shocked and hurt by their songs. A lot of them were just dirty limericks. But some of them were… they talked about people they'd lost to his tyranny, or what they hoped the world would be like when the Seeker fulfilled the prophecy. I stayed for a day, listening. I just wanted to _know_. Why would so many people gather together, in defiance of all society, to listen to _music_. This one woman played a harp. No words. It was like he was speaking a secret language of things you could only say with music. She was beautiful… supper's ready."

Cara took her longknife and cut off a strip from the flank, which she handed to Dahlia.

"I can do that," Dahlia said.

"I can do it better. Eat." 

* * *

As they ate - Dahlia watching Cara suck the grease from the bone, her fingers, before moving on to the next piece – a sound started up. At first, it was almost indistinguishable from the stirring of the rain against the rock. But it kept going, their ears attuning to it until it was unmistakably scribbling. And it was coming from Cara's pack.

She finished her bone and tossed it on the fire, then dug in her pack until she found the small journey book Richard had made for her. Inside, a quill was scratching against the closed pages. Cara opened it, turning until she saw words appearing in red. Kahlan's handwriting. Splotches obscuring the words occasionally, like raindrops hitting them. Or tears.

_Cara,_

I don't know why I'm writing this. I don't know what comfort it _will bring me. Lately, the only comfort I feel is that you're with the Spirits, because if anyone deserves to be sheltered by them, it's you. That Richard and I will see you again I have no doubt, but it hurts, it wounds, that I can't see you now, see you _becoming _the magnificent woman I've only gotten glimpses of. But all I have left of you are regrets. A Confessor's job, and most especially a Mother Confessor's, is to emphasize and reconcile the wants and _needs of _many. But I was so wrapped up in my happiness I thought nothing of yours. Your crush on me was sweet, and I should've done more to let you know it was normal, not something to be ashamed of. I should've _helped you _find someone who deserves and returns your feelings. For a long time, I've felt protective of you. I've seen how vulnerable you _can be_. I mourn you now as a sister, a blood relation. That's the only explanation I can give for how close I feel to you, the desire I have to honor your memory and protect_

**Stop blubbering, Kahlan. You're embarrassing me in front of Dahlia.**

_Cara? Is that you?_

**Who else would it be?**

_Triana said you were dead._

**She lies. She does that. Whose blood are you writing with? I hope you're not wasting your own.**

_Berdine donated some when we changed her bandages. What is Dahlia doing there?_

**I put a Rada'han on her. She's been very kind. She was even nice enough to let me use her blood to write this.**

In actuality, it came from the elk. Cara wasn't sure why she lied.

_Cara…_

**What?**

_You know what._

**Can we go back to you paying homage to me?**

_Listen. We've gone to Castle Invictus. Come here quickly. We're working out a plan of attack._

**Not yet. The war wizards are digging something out of the mountain. I'm going to find out what it is.**

**Are your hands on your hips?**

_Yes._

**I'll be careful. If anything happens, I won't hesitate to use Dahlia as a human shield.**

"What are you writing?" Dahlia asked in-between bites of her venison.

"Heroic stuff," Cara replied. "How best to protect the innocent and help useless people with stupid problems. That kind of thing."

_We think we've found out Darken Rahl's plan. He's going to use Jagang like a forest fire, burning away the deadwood so the forest can grow. _

**Did you let Richard come up with the metaphors?**

_He'll convince Jagang to spare D'Hara. Then, after the war wizards have broken the world's spirit, Rahl will put them back where he found them and take over. We need to find out how he plans to stop their rampage._

**I'll see what I can do.**

_Cara…_

Cara glanced up at Dahlia, who was staring at her through her profession's red veil.

**It's been four minutes. Write something.**

_Just be careful, alright? The most important thing is that you come back safe._

**We must agree to disagree, Mother Confessor.**

Cara closed the book and stuffed it back into her pack. "Your friend Darken Rahl is planning to betray the Keeper, again. After he lets Jagang take care of his enemies, he'll retake D'Hara. The world of the living will keep going for a long time."

Dahlia scowled. "And what about your friends? The ones who abandoned you?"

"They're safe," Cara said. "At an abandoned castle nearby."

"So when do we leave? I doubt Kahlan can wait to see you. Maybe when we get there, she'll give you a big wet kiss."

"I'm not going. I'm going to find out what the war wizards are digging up and then, hopefully, I'm going to use it to kill them all."

Dahlia's eyes rolled precipitously. "And what will become of me?"

Cara's hand shot out, catching Dahlia cross the face. Her head jerked to the side and seemed like it might straighten for a moment, before she slumped to the ground. Cara opened the Rada'han and clasped it onto her belt, leaving Dahlia lying in the warmth of the fire.

"Have fun serving the Keeper," she said, and set off into the pouring rain. 

* * *

By the time Cara reached the mountain, the rain had stopped. She set herself within a wayward pine and let herself rest until she stopped shivering. The dawn came. With the light the way it was, she'd have the advantage of stealth and the guards' own tiredness. Crawling from the hollow tree, she examined the mountain in the light of day.

If it was a volcano, it had obviously lain dormant for a long time. One side was a tapering, almost conical slope dotted with vegetation—bushes, trees, even some flowers. The other, like the flipside of a coin, was a steep and craggy cliff, like the volcano had been cut in half right down the middle. No one could climb that.

Cliff it was. 

* * *

Cara felt out a new handhold and curled her fingers into it. Progress had been easier than she'd expected. She could always see the top. Knifing her fingers into a crack-it gave way in her hand. She dropped five feet before grabbing hold of a ledge, her body slammed against the cliff. The wind that was knocked out of her stirred some lichen in front of her face, growing where it could on the rocky mountainside. Below, the rocks she'd dislodged tumbled for a long, long time.

She kept going. She only needed to take her mind off the fall. Dahlia came to mind. She wondered if she had done the right thing in letting her live. There was always the chance that she would go running back to Darken Rahl. There was always the chance she wouldn't.

It was impossible to read her. Most people were easy to figure out. Like reading a book. They were motivated by lust, hunger, fear, a pathetic need for safety. Dahlia was a book bound in metal, written in some indecipherable language, chained to a boulder at the bottom of a cave. Cara couldn't count on Dahlia being her enemy. Once, she had been something more.

She considered the possibility that Dahlia was attracted to her. Well, it was possible. She thought Dahlia was attractive, at least. Not as attractive as Kahlan, but maybe if you replaced those sexless red robes with something a little more flattering… maybe if she could see Dahlia fight once more…

It wouldn't be love. But Cara could use sex with someone who could keep pace.

There was a new scent in the air. Not the cloyingly sweet smell of a rainfall passed, this was sharp, harsh, metallic. Fire and brimstone. Like the underworld. At long last, Cara's hands caressed the summit and she pulled herself up.

The top of the mountain had been sheared away, as neat and clean as a Mord'Sith would break a bone. Smoldering craters turned the plain rock into a hellish landscape; the wizards were digging. Not anymore. They'd gathered in a circle around the largest crater of all. Rahl walked inside their ranks, never using one sentence where ten would do. "Many of you have asked what use the leader of the Imperial Order has for a lowly Lord Rahl, now that you have your freedom. And I would reply, what's the use of freedom if it can be taken away at a moment's notice? Although your captors are long dead, your prison remains, waiting to be refilled. But not anymore. While you've been… indisposed, hundreds of years' worth of magical research has been done. Giving me all the knowledge I need to destroy the Clear Eye's Fire forever. Allow me to demonstrate."

Cara had crept close enough to see what the war wizards had uncovered. If it was a vault, much like the one of the Queen of Tamarang had used, with fearsome faces carved on the sides to deter robbers. Cara watched every one of them melt as Rahl washed it in fire.


	15. We're a long way from home Part 8

Rahl retired from the celebration early. Jagang's entertainment was too louche for his tastes. And though Richard's efforts to save his adopted home had thus far been depressingly successful, they'd stumbled across a woman traveler in the woods. The war wizards had wanted to kill her outright, their eternal imprisonment having left little in the way of charm, but Rahl was merciful. Though she was homely, a little magic would make her a great comfort to him.

He entered a tent that had been struck with a thought from Jagang and went to the bundle on the cot. "Wake up, my dear. It's time to serve D'Hara."

He pulled the covers aside. Cara snarled at him. "Not tonight, Darken. You have a headache."

She moved so fast that the fact of her acting was all that he registered before the darkness was thrown over him like a heavy blanket. 

* * *

Darken Rahl woke up to pain so intense it reminded him of his childhood in the Underworld. The Agiel could be bracing when not prepared for.

His eyes opened. He was still in his tent, but his arms and legs were bound. A Rada'Han did its best to choke off his air.

"Where is it?"

"My dear Cara, whatever could you mean?"

She pressed her Agiel to his cheek, locking his jaw together so he couldn't scream. "The Clear Eye's Flame. I've already searched the tent, and your person."

"While I was insensate? How cruel."

Again, the Agiel. "You would never destroy something that would give you power over Jagang. Where'd you hide it?

He smiled at her before the pain stopped. "You're not going to break me, Cara."

"I'm not trying to. I'm just going to kill you and let the Keeper toy with you until I give you the Breath of Life. See where that takes us."

Rahl stilled his twitch. "You won't kill me. You need me."

"The Fire, Darken."

"Because deep down, you want to be a true Mord'Sith again, serving a true Lord Rahl."

"Tell me where it is."

"Not this pale imitation of the woman I made, weakened and broken by a pretender to the throne and his Confessor slut."

Her Agiel hit his chest so hard it broke a rib. It stayed there, in the fracture, filling the pain with pain. "They made me whole." Her words were almost inaudible under the screaming magic.

The tent's flaps pulled away by themselves, like a scab being picked. Jagang prowled in. With a gesture, Cara was tossed aside. Jagang turned his back on her to face Rahl. "I hope you enjoyed your whore, Rahl, because while I appreciate the service rendered, I can't give you the chance to betray me in the future."

"You idiot, it's a trick! She perverted the ritual, she has the Fire right now!"

Their eyes went to Cara. She kicked down the tentpole. When the tent came down, she was already rolling out from under it. She came up running. Behind her, Jagang burned through the canvas. "Get her!"

She hadn't been that cliché when she'd been evil, had she?

She was running hard, making a beeline through the sleeping camp, jumping craters and shouldering through the waking men. As powerful as they were, no one could fight a battle while asleep. She was almost to the road, the ground already beginning to slope, when the earth exploded under her. Whatever spell had made those pits, it had just been used against her. She spun through the air for a jumbled moment, landed painfully. She rolled onto her back to see a war wizard strolling toward her, wide awake. Wonderful. She was going to die because of insomnia.

"Pretty, pretty, die pretty," he gibbered. But he hadn't moved a muscle before a dacra spun into his chest. Cara was a little surprised that the Dark Sister who pulled her to her feet was Dahlia and not a complete stranger.

"Are you coming, or having too much fun here?" Dahlia asked, jerking her head in the universal motion for 'let's go'.

The dacra was glowing in the war wizard as he groaned his death. Cara didn't think Dahlia would be getting it back. She ran, Dahlia following. Ahead was the road, where carts full of debris waited to be disposed of downhill. Cara jumped into an empty one, knocking it into motion. Dahlia jumped in beside her. Cara felt an annoying happiness.

The cart rolled down the mountainside. Cara heard chanting behind them, melding with the sound of a font of lava shooting from the volcano. It splashed down the mountainside, starting an instant forest fire. Which was a problem, since the forest covered all of the slope except for a winding road down. And the cart was picking up speed.

Cara made an aside to Dahlia: "I thought you served the Keeper."

"So I'll send these guys to the Underworld."

Behind them, the volcano roared, lava flowing after them almost as fast as the wall of volcanic ash. They were fast enough for the world to blur around the edges and the nice, straight road was about to say goodbye. Dahlia grabbed hold of the guide-handle. It was supposed to be used by someone walking in front of the cart, but it could be used from inside – theoretically.

Faster. The road turned to the right. Dahlia didn't. A tree loomed up and Dahlia twisted, too hard, slamming the cart against another tree to the left. Luckily, it was only a side-swipe. The interior of the cart crackled inward..

The shockwave of ash surged behind them, growling like a pack of wolves. Cara saw it strip the bark right off a tree. "Go faster!"

"Are you sure? I was thinking of taking the scenic route." Dahlia jerked the handle with preternatural calm. The cart lagged behind the steering like a slow-motion nightmare, careening off trees despite Dahlia's best efforts. The sound of a tree trunk shattering was their only warning as a boulder hurled from the volcano thudded down ahead of them. Dahlia threw the cart into a skid to avoid it and they fishtailed wildly before she regained control, just in time for the wave of ash to overtake them.

It was like a blanket had been thrown over the world. They couldn't see a thing, had to hold their breaths to keep from choking, like the ash wanted to strangle them. The only sound was the muted roar of the volcano exploding.

A tree loomed out of the gray darkness. Dahlia pulled hard on the handle but the tires had no time to turn. The cart hit the tree head-on and they were thrown clear.

Cara hit the ground and rolled. Ground, sky, it all looked gray. Time blurred together, dream-like, and from nearby but far away she heard Dahlia grunting as she tumbled. Then the world abruptly straightened. Cara had rolled onto level ground.

"Cara!" Dahlia called.

"Over here!" She planted her good hand on the dirt and righted herself, closing her eyes against her dizziness. She was Mord'Sith. She would not succumb to something so… plain.

Dahlia lurched out of the ashes, which were thick as a fogbank. Her lips moved, but all Cara heard was the gathering roar of the volcano. She realized she wasn't disoriented. The earth was just shaking itself apart.

Dahlia ran into Cara, grabbing hold of her leathers to stay upright. Dahlia was as out of it as Cara was. "Do you smell fresh air?" she shouted in her ear.

Cara took several deep sniffs. There was something sweet in the air. She immediately walked them toward it.

They stumbled out of the ashes like two drunks coming home, coughing and tearing up. Dahlia stopped, turned. By now the volcano was just a black leak on the horizon, far less prominent than the ash that was filling up the sky. She looked down at Cara. The Mord'Sith was sprawled across the ground, motionless except for the breath that lifted clouds of dirt off the ground.

Cara rolled herself onto her back. "I found a camping spot." 

* * *

Dahlia tried to sleep. She wanted to sleep. As soon as she'd laid down, a week's worth of complaints had sprung up from her body. She just needed to close her eyes and let her body replenish itself. But Cara wouldn't let her.

The Mord'Sith stared into Dahlia like a cat watching a mouse, and refusing to watch. She simply watched, her eyes pregnant with some heady secret.

Dahlia had long since closed her eyes. "You want to ask me something," she said, not opening them. "You want to _know_ something about me."

"I know all I need to know about you. I'm asking myself something."

"And what would that be?"

"Whether I feel the same way about you as you feel about me."

Dahlia's eyes opened. Barely. "Don't flatter yourself." But once she met Cara's eyes, she couldn't stop. There was a crack in that steely gaze. A little girl she had once known.

"Why'd you come back for me?" Cara asked.

"Because I want to have your love children."

The predator finally pounced. One of Cara's hands covered Dahlia's throat while the other bunched in her veil, exposing her surprise to Cara's full scrutiny. Dahlia was pulling out a dacra when Cara kissed her. There was a moment, with Dahlia's guard dropped and Cara softening, where one would be hard-pressed to see the years that had clad them both in red. If you were to tell an onlooker that they had grown up together, childhood sweethearts, nothing else would need to be said.

Then Dahlia pushed Cara back, drawing her blade, breathing hard.

"Yes," Cara said, lying down where she'd fallen, "that's what I thought." 

* * *

As blasé as she acted, sleep was long in coming for Cara. It was scary, how you could feel about someone you hated.

She didn't want to fall into the trap she'd set with Kahlan, giving love like dropping stones into a well, piling up deep beneath the earth to never see the light of day. She didn't want to love at all. Darken Rahl was right about her. She wanted to be an Agiel, hard, blunt, only giving pain and never receiving it. She wanted to be Triana. 

* * *

Richard and Triana rode into an apocalypse. The houses had been blown to rubble, just so the war wizards could watch them burn. The smoke still hung in the air like a bad dream. Richard and Triana rode through it, full gallop. They saw no one. A few turns and they were at the inn. It was still intact, but the windows had been blown out. Richard dismounted, drew his sword, crept to the door. He signaled for Triana to stand watch. Her nod was tight, but she obeyed.

Richard went through the door.

The graveyard had been dug up, its contents posed inside. Skeletons were playing cards, drinking ale, dancing. The magic of it stunk like rot. Richard proceeded carefully, ducking under bone-limbs. He reached the stairs and went up, keeping his feet on the sides of the boards so they didn't creak. Stepped onto the second floor. It was empty, untouched. Richard stepped lightly to the room they had taken, pushed inside. Just as they had left it, not one day ago. Some of Cara's arrows still laid on her bed, waiting to be sharpened. Richard's eyes stung.

He went to the desk Zedd had taken, opened the first drawer. A ham sandwich. He opened the second. A thick tome. He tied a bookstrap around it and some other papers, slung it over his back with his free hand. He was headed out the door when he heard the screaming outside.

He ran to the window. Triana was still outside, but she wasn't making the noise. It was a war wizard, the sound coming from a woman's face stretched across its chest.

Richard didn't think. He threw himself through the window and hit the sloped roof running, treading down to the gutter and leaping off it. The screaming woman trailed off into a quizzical 'huh?' as the war wizard turned to meet Richard, meet the sword that came down through its chest. Richard landed on his feet, the bookstrap a few feet away.

The war wizard shoved him onto his back, leaving the sword inside its chest. Triana attacked from behind, jamming her Agiels between its ribs in search of the wizard's heart, but it swatted her aside without a second thought. Stomped toward Richard, who kicked out and managed to smear some mud on the faces capping the wizard's knees.

The wizard lifted his boot and brought it down, narrowly missing Richard when he rolled to the side. He came up swinging, but his punch just succeeded in moving the war wizard's second face an inch to the left. The war wizard's hand lashed out and Richard felt only air around him, then the wall he was smashing through. Fortunately, the fire had already made it brittle and black.

He scrambled to his feet, but could already taste magic gathering in the air. The war wizard had its hand outstretched and pointed at him. Triana charged into it, not managing to upset its footing, but getting her arm wrapped firmly around its wrist. Richard felt a certain… tang. Magic being captured.

"Get clear, Lord Rahl," she said, calmly as you please, even as the magic rebelled inside her.

No. Not like Cara.

Richard ran forward, hurling himself against the war wizard, taking hold of the hilt still protruding from its breast, and feeding all his rage, all his sorrow, all his regret into it. The blade turned red. Richard pulled. It came free of the war wizard, bisecting the damned thing's torso in the process. It fell away. As if Triana had been caught in the same sword-stroke, she staggered. Richard caught her, felt blood cough from her mouth onto her cheek. He dragged her to where the bookstrap had fallen, let her carry it.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

He dragged her along, letting her drag the bookstrap. The horses weren't far. They hadn't spooked at the first sign of trouble.

"You should've left. I could've distracted it," Triana said, not doing anything about the blood dribbling over her chin.

Richard paused to wipe her mouth. "That will never happen."

"If it's about Cara, you shouldn't feel bad. Darken Rahl sent Mord'Sith to their deaths all the time. It was expected of us."

Lifting Triana up to her saddle came easy. She didn't even feel heavy. "I am not my brother."


	16. We're a long way from home Part 9

Not quite sure if she was awake or barely asleep, Cara stared at the journey book. Tired of restless slumber, she picked it up and scrawled Kahlan's name inside. It reminded her of an old notebook, Dahlia Mason written inside.

_I'm here._

**Darken Rahl was digging for something called the Clear Eye's Fire. Find out what it does.**

_Alright, give me a moment._

A few minutes later, a page of text appeared in Zedd's chickenscratch writing. It was clearly translated from some dry academic text, but Cara got the gist of it. The Fire was the Subtractive Magic equivalent of the Stone of Tears. It could open rifts in the Underworld, while the Stone could close them. Cara wondered if Rahl's plan had been this from the start. Free Jagang, let him lead the way to the Fire, and then… what? Insurance against Jagang? Leverage with the Keeper? None of them boded well.

_Are you alright?_

**Always.**

_Are you coming back?_

**Yes.**

_Good, that's good… with Dahlia?_

**I don't know yet. If I told you to let her into the castle, would you trust her?**

_I would trust you._

A long pause.

**What are you wearing?**

_I just laughed out loud!_

* * *

Morning came. Dahlia had prepared a rabbit. Cara winced when she saw how soft its fur was, even separated from the rest. But she took the meat Dahlia gave her.

As she handed it over, Dahlia noticed Cara's haggard appearance. "Bad dreams?"

Cara shook her head mechanically. "Bad memories." She looked at Dahlia with bloodshot eyes. "You've never doubted, have you?"

"No."

"Lately, it seems that's all I do. Do you know of Castle Invictus?"

"I've heard of it." 

* * *

Dahlia's eyes were shut, her finger jerking through the air as if consulting an invisible map. Which she was. Cara recognized the old meditation technique. It left you dead to the world. Cara stood in front of her, her chest just inches from a darting finger. It was amazing Dahlia trusted her that much.

She'd become beautiful since their separation, Cara thought, leaning close to her. High cheekbones, soft lips. But the eyes were the really alluring thing to her. That was what had first drawn her to Kahlan.

Dahlia's fingers brushed against the lapel of Cara's leathers and Cara backed off, letting Dahlia's finger finish a surprisingly sensual curl. The Dark Sister's eyes opened. She lowered her hand, using it to pull a compass from her pocket. After consulting it, she turned.

"That way, past the coal mine." She pointed. "But it's a long way."

"If you get tired, I promise I'll slow down."

Dahlia snorted, though Cara knew her amusement was more at the thought of being outpaced than the joke. "Shall we?" She crouched down beside Cara and touched the ground, a runner taking her mark. Cara smiled to herself as she did the same.

Finally, someone who could keep up. 

* * *

It was almost dark by the time they reached the edge of the forest, the sky purpling like a bruise. The run had taken up most of the day. When Dahlia glanced at Cara, she saw sweat dripping off her clavicle. When Cara looked at Dahlia, she saw sweat joining her robes to her body.

Cara took a drink from her flask, then held it out automatically to Dahlia. She stared at it, taken aback by the gesture, but took it before her hesitance could seem rude. The water was cool and refreshing, taking away the taste of stale sweat from her lips.

"This way," Cara said after Dahlia handed it back to her.

The coal mine was easy to find. There was a trail of smoke leading to it, flicking back and forth like a chastising finger. The ground was a no man's land of gravel and mine-cart tracks, separating the mine from the castle in the distance. Cara could just make out townspeople crowding the windows like specters, the distance rendering them mute. Dahlia was headed toward them.

"Wait," Cara called.

Dahlia stopped. Turned around.

The fire in the mine was casting green light up to the surface.

"I'll be back," Cara said, her footsteps slowly crunching gravel like she was approaching a skittish deer.

"You're leaving me?" Dahlia asked.

Cara glared at her.

Dahlia pulled a rope from her pack. "Here. Take this. Wrap it around your waist. I'll tug on it every five minutes, and if you'll okay, pull on it three times."

When Dahlia threw it to her, Cara let it drop to the ground. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Did you decide?" Dahlia asked.

Cara stared from the rope to her.

"Whether we feel the same?"

Cara picked up the rope. 

* * *

The first thing that struck Cara was the stench. It'd been growing strong since before the mine had come into view, but in the confines of the shaft, it was truly overpowering. Physical, in fact; she could feel the smoke coating her skin, a slimy feeling like the mine was a giant creature and she was in its stomach. The smoke from deep within the mine was pushing past, actually seeming to offer resistance to her progress. It had a distinct tinge of overcooked meat.

She followed the mine-cart tracks, stepping carefully on each wooden tie. The light from the fire was growing, but it only met layer after layer of roiling smoke flowing by her. Suddenly, it seemed as if there was no mine, just an endless wasteland of smoke, like the whole world had been burnt away. For some reason the image resonated with her, starting a fluttering panic in her stomach.

She was shoved off-balance, the mine violently expelling her. After an instant of frantically seeking out a target, Cara realized it was Dahlia tugging on the rope. She gave it three sharp jerks and it resumed its slack.

"You are Mord'Sith," she chided herself as she moved forward.

The wooden ties groaned under her, snapping sometimes. The smell was forcing itself down her nostrils, filling her lungs, _branding_ her. She had to take her mind off it. Dahlia sprang to mind. She truly could be annoying.

A sound rose over the dull rumble of the flames below. It was a dripping, elongated by echoing. Cara felt Dahlia's pull again and pulled back three times. Then she started down a tunnel toward the source of the noise. The echoes got louder, buffeting her from all sides.

"Cara!" Her name ricocheted down the shaft, becoming a watery reflection of whatever its original meaning had been. She whirled around, only to see a shifting morass of smoke, pulling away from her.

"Dahlia?" she called, her lonely voice echoing out of the mine.

The rope went taut. She pulled three times and it relaxed. She turned back around. The dripping seemed to be getting louder, drops of water falling with bomb blasts. The side-tunnel twisted downward at a steeper angle than she had grown used to. Cara felt her way along the wall with her free hand. The dripping seemed to reverberate through the rock. Her other hand was on her holstered Agiel.

Something burned its way into her shoulder. Cara brandished as she dropped, her Agiel screaming through the air. She was alone except for the smoke that curled around her motion, her, possessively. A drop of burning pitch dropped from the ceiling. It burned green.

Dahlia vigilantly pulled on the rope. She gave it three grateful tugs, then smelled the flame. She recognized the scent. It was that of the incense Darken Rahl had used to light his father's tomb. Dahlia pulled on her again. She returned three distracted pulls, then looked up for the source of the pitch. Dahlia pulled on the line again.

"I'm _fine,_" she hissed as she gave another three reassuring tugs. After the second one she was yanked off her feet, her head cracking painfully against the rocky floor. Her vision blurred as she was reeled in, leathers tearing as she scraped across the ground. Cara tried to untie the knot, but Dahlia whipped her from side to side with impossible strength. She smashed into a mine cart, knocking it over, dug her hands into the ground but only came up with handfuls of loose gravel. Finally, the line went slack, dumping her within eyeshot of the entrance to the mine. Light poured in, passing a familiar figure.

She made her way to her feet, eyes narrow. "Darken."

He bowed mockingly.

"Where's Dahlia?"

"Your childhood sweetheart? Don't worry about her. She's given us some privacy for our talk."

"I have nothing to say to you." Cara drew her Agiels. "But I do have a lot to do to you."

"Then you don't want this?" he asked, holding up something Cara recognized. A diamond cut in the shape of an eye, what looked like a fire frozen inside it, seeming to flicker as the light caught it at different angles. No sooner had she recognized it than the Clear Eye's Flame disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

Cara stopped in her tracks. This close, she could smell Rahl's cologne over the smoke. "Give it to me."

"What's it worth to you?"

"Your life, for starters."

Rahl smiled, charmed. "I'll give it to you. In trade."

Cara hated the sound of that. "I want to talk to Dahlia."

"_You're standing in her._"

Not taking her eyes off Rahl, Cara probed the ground with her toe. It _squished_. She very carefully looked up. Dahlia was lying across the ceiling, her own dacra protruding from her chest, the color gone from her skin. In the space someone else might fill with shock, Cara had grabbed Rahl by the throat and bore him to the ground, Agiel in his heart. "Let her down, now!"

Rahl smiled through the pain, at the pain. "Haven't we been through this already? You can't kill me. You need me."

Cara moved the Agiel to his crotch. "Not all of you."

Rahl waved a hand dismissively and Dahlia thudded against the ground, gasping at the impact. Cara backed over to her with her Agiel still pointed at Rahl, then rolled Dahlia against the wall with her foot. "Alright?"

"It only hurts when I laugh. I'm sorry, Cara. He came up behind me, it happened so fast."

"I know." Cara placed herself between Rahl and Dahlia. "Why would you give me the Flame?"

"Many reasons. For one, I doubt you can even work it. But if you do figure it out, it'd be useful in dealing with Jagang. Plausible deniability, you might call it."

"So give it to me."

"Nothing is free in this life, Cara. I could just as easily give it to Jagang and prove my usefulness that way. I merely thought I'd offer it to you first, since we're such good friends."

"What do you want?"

"Lots of things." Rahl rose like a vampire from the grave. "My empire back. The heads of your friends on pikes. You, returned to where you belong."

"Be specific."

Rahl brushed some of the dirt off himself. "Nostalgia, Cara. I merely want to relive old times."

Cara lowered her Agiel. "Which old times?"

"Do you remember motherhood, Cara?"

"What?"

"Life, growing inside you. The pain of birth, the joy of service. The baby may have turned out useless, but making him was quite pleasant."

"I'll take your word for it." Cara's face was as still as Dahlia's was wild, darting from former master to old slave.

"Of course, I had to kill the little snot. I'm afraid you just don't have magic in your blood, Cara. So if you do get pregnant, feel free to… handle it as you see fit."

"Of course," Cara said dully. She slid her Agiel into its sheath

Dahlia grabbed her boot. "You don't have to do this."

She shook her off. "Trust me. It's nothing I haven't done before."

No longer willing to meet Dahlia's eyes, she made her way to Rahl. He held out a handkerchief, the whispered force of his "Clean yourself off" clashing with his gentlemanly manner. She took it without feeling and rubbed it across her face, between her fingers, over her hands and arms. It came away from her skin black with soot. She handed it back to Rahl. He took it graciously. "Close your eyes."

She did, her face blank as granite. Rahl was suddenly behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders, moved over her, cupping her throat, squeezing it. He pushed her against the wall, just a little too slow for her to do it on her own, fingers biting into her neck, raising welts.

Then, Cara realized she was two people. Split. On one level, a level that she was allowing to rule her, she felt a fawning admiration for Rahl like a dog would toward its master. Every movement of his royal body brought her the utmost glee and she wanted nothing more than to die for him so he would know she'd given her utmost to him.

On a second level, as someone buried alive inside the first persona, she was able to see and hear her other self from a distance, but unable to tune it out or escape. It was like she was leashed to herself. She wondered if Dahlia could see this 'her'. The Sister was watching her like a man listened to an eulogy, her fingers fisted like they were wrapped around the hilt of a dagger.

Then Rahl began to pet her hair, the same way someone might touch a dead jellyfish. That gave half of Cara some satisfaction, and the rest an impatience for being teased. Then he grew bolder, wrapping a strand of hair around his finger and then pulling it out of her scalp. Dahlia bared her teeth. Rahl glanced at her, enjoying the audience and its affect on Cara. He moved his fingers down her shoulder, pulling her collar open as if displaying her faint tanline to Dahlia.

"Open your eyes," he hissed, and Cara didn't even know if closing them had helped. "This is going to happen, right here and right now. All you can determine is how much it's going to hurt. Do you want it to hurt?"

"I don't care," she said.

"Spoken like a true Mord'Sith." He kissed her cheek, his lips abrading her skin like sandpaper. They moved up her face until he reached her ear, which he seized in his teeth. After a moment of biting, he released it and probed his tongue into her ear. Dahlia watched as Cara gasped in what could've been revulsion or pleasure.

The tongue slipped back into Rahl's mouth, saliva trailing behind it. "Come on now," he said, taking her wrists in his hands as if for a dance. "Put your back into it. Show me how much this is worth to you." He lowered her hand to his groin. Cara let it lie there, limp as a doll. Face twisting with hatred, Rahl scratched his nails down the side of her face and into her neck, leaving bleeding scarlet lines behind. Cara didn't make a sound.

Blood was trickling from Dahlia's fist, where her nails cut into her palm.

"I will not be one of your lovers," he whispered intimately in Cara's ear. "You shall remember me more vividly than that. I am to be your rapist."

"I," Cara began with great difficulty, "will put you out of my mind as soon as I've washed away your stench."

Rahl slammed Cara against a wall, his nails cutting through her clothes and flesh. "Tell me you love it, little whore. Beg me for more. Tell me to fuck you."

Cara held her tongue, teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut. Rahl made a noise of excitement in his throat as he licked his way up her face. With a small whimpering sound, Cara looked at Dahlia. It helped to think of the sound the blood made dripping from her dacra onto the dirt floor.

"You don't have to watch, Dahlia… don't watch."

Rahl forced Cara to her knees, choking the life out of her with both his well-manicured hands. His fingernails pricked at her larynx. "It's a shame. You two make a cute couple… but she'll never be yours."

You'd be forgiven for not noticing it had even happened for a few seconds. Rahl's mouth was still moving, but no sound emerged. Cara still knelt before him, eyes closed, but the only thing on her neck was welts. And if you looked very closely, you could see Dahlia behind Rahl, a dacra in her hand, still warm from her own body. With her other hand on Rahl's shoulder, she was guiding him away from Cara, as gentle as a dance. Then she twisted savagely and thrust Rahl into a wall. Before he hit, the tyrant had disappeared in a blaze of green flame.

Pursing a hand to the wound she'd opened in herself, Dahlia helped Cara to her feet. "Come on. We're done here."

They walked until the light was bright enough to hurt. Outside, Dahlia let go of Cara's hand and immediately started pacing, shoulders bowed, fists constantly flexing like she was looking for a way to curl them tighter.

"Calm down," Cara said softly.

Dahlia waved her off, sagging against the wall. A moment later she kicked it and launched herself across the mine. When she turned around, Cara was there. She grabbed Dahlia's hands. The Sister froze, her angry breath hitting Cara like waves off a storm. She adjusted her grip, her skin sliding over Cara's. They were sweating.

"Calm down," Cara said. And then: "You didn't have to do that."

Dahlia nodded and turned toward the exit. She was surprised to find Cara hanging onto her hand, holding her in the shadows.

"Thank you," Cara said, slowly, carefully.

"Anytime," Dahlia replied with a nod.

Cara let go of her hand. "Next time the mission is on the line, you pick the mission." She said the words quickly, like she was ripping off a bandage.

Dahlia's surprise quickly turned into stony-faced silence. "I don't care about the mission."

"It was just sex."

"He didn't want to have sex with you, he wanted to break you."

"He wouldn't have succeeded."

"I didn't want to see him try!"

"You want to control me. Just like him."

Dahlia gritted her teeth. "Fine! You want to spread your legs for anyone who can prop you up, have fun!"

The punch came so fast even Dahlia didn't see it coming. She just stumbled back a few steps, lip split, came up just in time to see the Agiel being unholstered. She caught it and Cara's arm flexed, trying to force it deeper into Dahlia's space, but the Sister held it fast, and so it laid between them, screaming its pain into both of them. Dahlia's lip quivered as she took the magic, but she didn't cry out. And she didn't let go.

"Do you have a bed?" Cara asked.

"What?"

Cara jerked the Agiel back, returning it to its holster. "When we get to Invictus, I'll ask Kahlan to find you someplace to sleep. She will."

"Alright," Dahlia said, squeezing her hand into a fist and out again. When she did, she felt the welt the Agiel had left, sore and taut.


	17. We're a long way from home Part 10

Cara didn't remember being let into the castle. It was like she'd blinked and the room had appeared around her. Kahlan had shocked her out of her numbness. Her hands didn't shake. They were in Kahlan's.

"What's wrong?" Kahlan asked. Normally, Cara would be incensed at her empathy, but just then it came as a comfort to know Kahlan thought her worth such compassion.

Cara didn't answer. For once, she was without words.

Kahlan's gaze shifted to Dahlia. The Dark Sister hadn't left Cara's side, even though it had earned her a ring of Mord'Sith ready to strike her down at a moment's notice. "**What did you do!**"

Even through the _null_ that still weighted her down, Cara rose to Dahlia's defense. She couldn't risk Kahlan going into Con Dar. "She's done nothing. I'm fine."

Kahlan stared deep into Cara's eyes, trying to read her not as a Mord'Sith, but as a friend. Cara looked away.

"Leave us," Kahlan told the Mord'Sith, in a tone that would not have met with disagreement whether she was speaking as the Lady Rahl, the Mother Confessor, or a simple farm girl. The Mord'Sith departed, dragging along Dahlia. Kahlan didn't take her eyes off Cara. Even in profile, she seemed less implacable, more torn. Her cuts and bruises she didn't wear as medals.

"What happened out there?" she asked in a voice shorn of all the little inflections that commanded such respect.

"Pain," Cara said, and reached for her Agiel.

Kahlan stopped her, grabbing her wrist and squeezing. Cara closed her eyes and could still feel Kahlan there, holding on.

"You don't need that," Kahlan said, promised. "Tell me. Just try to tell me."

"Something's wrong. I don't want to talk about it. I can handle everything on my own."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do." Cara twisted Kahlan's hand so her ring was facing up, catching the light. "I don't have a husband."

"This is about Richard?"

Cara lied smoothly. "Isn't everything?"

"You're my best friend," Kahlan said quietly. The blow of Cara's bitterness had caught her off-guard, throwing her off-course. "You know how much I want this. I thought you could at least be a little happy for me."

"I guess I don't love you that much." Cara went for the door.

"You're still my best friend," Kahlan called after her.

Cara stopped at the door. She opened it. Looked outside. No one was there. The door closed. Cara looked over her shoulder. When Kahlan saw her eyes, they were wavering. She was looking at Kahlan like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to gauge how far she'd fall if she jumped and where she'd land.

"Darken Rahl tried to rape me. But he didn't. So it's okay."

She opened the door again.

* * *

Triana had refused to be bed-ridden like a common human. Even now she stood in Dahlia's face, first to be targeted if Dahlia tried anything, leaning on her crutch as if it were a weapon. "They say in another life, you were Mord'Sith."

"I'm sure we're all sorts of things, in other lives."

"I don't buy it. You'd cut off your own hand before holding an Agiel for five minutes."

"Good. We're in agreement."

The chamber door banged open, cutting them both off. Cara prowled out, and both women were observant enough to note that her wounds had been cleaned. "Triana, with me."

Triana bowed, more pleased to give respect than anyone could be to receive it.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Dahlia called.

Cara stopped. Although she didn't look back, Triana did. Her eyes lit up at Cara's words. "The Mother Confessor has chosen to extend unearned mercy. You will be sheltered and fed, and watched at all times. It is a foolish choice, but I am obliged to follow foolishness."

She walked off before Dahlia could ask if it was a foolish choice she agreed with.

* * *

Richard saw Cara on his way to help Zedd with some of the translations, words written in magic so only a wizard could read them. Cara seemed the same way. Whatever her life was or had become, it was written in something he couldn't read. He told her he was happy to see her all the same, asked if she was alright. She stared at him like he was a stranger, before asking "Where'd you get the rings?"

Richard looked down to the metal on his finger, the twin to Kahlan's. "They were my parents'. Cara, you sound upset."

"I always sound upset."

* * *

Cara knocked back the shotglass with seasoned effort. She had an alright buzz going, getting into a screaming match with the pounding in her ears, and all the noise blotted out memories. Now she could only remember the big things, like Darken Rahl's touch. She could forget what he had said to her. Whether it was true or not.

"Thanks for letting me come in here and drink all your booze," she said. Even in her inebriation, her words came out smooth and unslurred. Mord'Sith training. It never left.

"Anytime, Cara," Triana said. She sat down across from Cara, slouching in her chair like a lion sated from a kill. Only Cara didn't see a carcass. She herself was straddling her chair, arms and head down on the back, hair hanging some over her face. "Now why'd you really come here? You're resourceful enough to get alcohol on your own."

She reached over to Cara, one of the little touches that could convey much to a Mord'Sith, and Cara twisted her arm so hard it would've broken if she weren't Mord'Sith. Triana went down on her knees, but didn't seem bowed. Maybe it was how she hadn't made a noise.

"If I want you to touch me, I'll give you permission," Cara said.

"From what I've been hearing, you've given our Lady Rahl permission. She hasn't done much with it." From anyone else, it would be a harsh rejoinder. From her, from a Mord'Sith, it wasn't. Just a statement of fact.

"And if I gave you permission? What would you do with it?"

"Everything."

Cara got up, let Triana go. The room had a bed. She went to it. She laid down.

"In the heat of the moment, I might... resist. If that happens, I want you to go through with it anyway, ignore me, hold me down, do whatever you have to do. But don't let me back out of this." She began to undress herself, and had become so used to doing it on her own that it was shocking when Triana helped her in lecherous ritual. "I need this," she said, to someone. "I don't know any other way…"

"I was wrong about you," Triana said, trailing her gloved hand down skin as it was exposed. (And spirits, how good it was to feel hard _leather_ touching her instead of weak flesh.) "You are still Mord'Sith." Her caress made Cara's nipples tense into pebbles. Cara didn't whimper, didn't beg. She smiled until it froze.

"Raina!" Triana called.

Cara started. "What do you want with her?" She calmed herself. "Am I not enough for you?"

"Wrong way around. You're Cara Mason, and I'm wounded. I may not be able to hold you down on my own." Triana got up. Her leathers shone in the light as she circled around, sat down at the head of the bed. Put Cara's head in her lap. Took Cara's hands in hers. A cat with a mouse. "But I can watch. I can see everything."

* * *

When he slipped into her hospital bed besides Kahlan after changing her bandages, Richard noticed that Kahlan clung to him doubly tight. He chalked it up to relief at Cara returning to them and continued worry for all of them. Kahlan hadn't told him about Cara's violation. It was a private matter, a woman's matter, and as heartfelt and sincere as the comfort he offered would be, it would come tinged with pity, and that wasn't what Cara needed. She needed someone to share her rage and pick up her sorrow when she couldn't hold it.

"Richard," she said, knowing he wouldn't sleep comfortably until she'd shared at least a little of what burdened her. "Do you know Cara loves me?"

She felt Richard's fond smile pass through his body like warmth. "Of course. She's not half as subtle about it as she thinks. Now, Zedd…"

"Not like that." Kahlan took Richard's hand, their rings clicking softly together. "Like us."

"Oh…" Richard muttered. When Kahlan turned to look at him, he still wore at least a half-smile. "I suppose I can't blame her."

"Is that all?"

"Actually, it's kinda hot."

"Richard!"

"Kahlan, I trust you. I know you would never do anything to hurt me, ever. So what I'm really wondering is why you told me."

She shrank back. His touch was suddenly too warm, too hard to feel. It reminded her of the days when she couldn't touch him, couldn't _look_ at him, because of where it might lead. "Because you have to know."

Richard laid on the bed beside her, watching her stare at the ceiling. "If it was really nothing, then why do I have to know? Do you feel guilty?"

"A little, yes. Wouldn't you?"

"I suppose." He refrained from the desire to hold her in his arms until she was out of pain, or kiss away any anguish, restricting himself to brushing some hair from her eyes. "It's clear you care about her. Maybe as a friend, maybe as something else. I'm not angry about that."

Kahlan turned to look at him, expectantly, meeting his even gaze and holding it as he continued.

"You remember when I first came to the Midlands? I didn't know any of the customs, any of that. If you had told me that a woman could love two people, that that's how it was in the Midlands… I would accept that."

Kahlan rolled over onto her side. "That's not how it is in the Midlands."

* * *

Cara felt nothing. Not the Agiel Triana was prodding her with nor Raina's teeth as she bit at Cara's thighs. The pain neither burned nor cajoled. It just lingered. This wasn't blocking her life out, it was letting something else in.

Cara had been alone many times, but she had never felt lonely. She cast her eyes desperately across the room, hoping for anything to awaken inside her. She saw two sisters in thrall to her, their leathers askew, their Agiels gripped tightly. All that happened was her seeing Raina's eyes tightly shut. Not in pleasure.

Cara sat up, shrugging Triana away with ease. "Why are your eyes closed?"

"Mistress?"

"Answer her," Triana whispered, the steel in her words making it a scream to Mord'Sith ears.

Raina looked Cara in the eye, now owning her mistake and turning it around on her mistress. "Because with my eyes closed, it is easier to pretend you are Berdine."

Cara adjusted Raina's leathers for her, giving her some modesty. "Because she's the one you want."

"Yes, mistress."

"Go to her."

Raina got up, confused.

"Cara," Triana said, sounding it like a curse. "If she stays, we can punish her."

"For what? Being in love?"

"She is meant to love the Lord Rahl!"

"Not anymore." Cara turned to Raina, still standing there like a child in the midst of her parents' argument. "Go."

Raina left. Cara got up to follow her. Triana made no move to stop her. She laid there in her dishabille, beautiful and meaningless.

"You were right after all," Cara said, dressing herself. "I'm not Mord'Sith."

"I don't know whether to pity you or envy you."

"When you figure it out, let me know."

* * *

Cara stood at a window, watching the sun slowly die. Intellectually, she'd known she was broken. Corrupted. Perverted from who she was meant to be. But she had never _felt it_ until now. She couldn't think of what to do with herself. Protecting Richard held no appeal for her anymore. How long would he need a monster guarding his flank? Would she cling to him, decade after decade, as he brought peace to D'Hara and hugged grandchildren, a constant reminder of the horrors of Darken Rahl? She didn't want that. She didn't want anything.

"Cara?" Kahlan said her name softly, like a student trying out a musical instrument for the first time.

Cara didn't bother to put herself on guard against Kahlan's intrusive brand of friendship. It didn't matter. "Come in, Kahlan."

Kahlan closed the door behind her. Cara had selected an archery tower to sleep in, from which she could ably defend her friends, although from all the dressers it had last been used as a closet. Among the bows and arrows, Kahlan's white dress made her into a specter. "You're hurt," she said.

"Yes."

"Let me help you." Kahlan closed with Cara and the Mord'Sith tensed herself, expecting an embrace, a squeezed hand or even a kiss on the cheek. When Kahlan's lips met hers, parting for her tongue to stroke Cara's, it was as if the floor fell out from under her. Cara fell through level after level until she was buried below the earth.

As overwhelmed as it was, Cara's body cried out for her to do something, and she kissed back haphazardly, her lips slipping off Kahlan's. Kahlan brooked no hesitation. Her hands, stronger and surer than Cara could've imagined, clenched on Cara's neck, her hip. Cara thought she might collapse if it weren't for them. But somehow she was granted a respite. As Kahlan pressed against her, she touched the holstered Agiel and jerked away, wincing in pain.

Breathing hard, they stared at each other. Kahlan's lips stayed parted, gleaming with moisture. She pulled her hair back, letting it all fall behind her shoulders. Sitting offensively on her swan-like neck was a Rada'han.

"Take that off," Cara said.

"No. We'll need it."

Then she meant it. This wasn't some… fantasy of Cara's she meant to indulge. Kahlan had feelings for Cara, and even if it was too soon to trust them against confession, they were worth expressing. The idea sat in Cara's stomach, twisting and turning.

"What about Richard?" Cara demanded.

"My thoughts exactly." Kahlan returned to Cara, towering over her, close enough that anything could happen.

Cara had always thought she was strong. Thought she was unbeatable. Thought she was Mord'Sith.

No. She was weak.

She took the Agiels off her belt and let them clatter to the ground.

Kahlan kissed her again and in that instant, Cara felt a sudden, gaping silence. No duty. No doubt. No past. No future. Just the all-encompassing sensation of Kahlan, owning her and giving herself to her at the same time. No, it was more than that. There was a warmth there, tasting of the friendship and sisterhood that Kahlan had offered for so long, only now Cara could partake of it whole-heartedly. The reason why was irrelevant. She had her. She felt… whole.

The sensation ended, the warmth stayed. But as if Kahlan too couldn't get enough, the Mother Confessor moved in to brush her lips once more against Cara's before speaking. "How do I undress you?"

Part of Cara didn't want to answer. She wanted to bite at Kahlan, claw at her for the audacity of asking, leave her wanting and moaning like a slut on the bed while Cara, the picture of calm, undressed in the other room, depriving Kahlan of all but the sound of leather parting from her body. Then and only then would she return, perfect, nude, to show her how a Mord'Sith made love.

She would be in control. She would be above Kahlan. But she didn't _want_ those things. She wanted to be as low as Kahlan took her, she wanted to be controlled by her feelings like she was a little girl again, she wanted this sensation to continue unceasingly. Wants weren't as important as needs. She needed Kahlan not to rethink this, not to leave. She needed Kahlan to love her.

"Tell me," she begged, with the same urgency that had Kahlan's fists bunched in her lacing. "Tell me how you feel about me."

"I love you," Kahlan kissed Cara's lips. "I love you." Her eyes. "I love you." Her forehead. "Please just let me love you."

In quick, breathy detail Cara explained to Kahlan how to undress her. Her hands worked fast, their touch chilled and the slightest bit moist. Cara wasn't even sure it was real; it seemed so possible that this was a dream until Kahlan laid a hand flush against her chest, feeling the heat of her breast. Under the leathers, Cara burned like a furnace.

Kahlan backed away as Cara's clothes fell away entirely. "You look at me, Cara. You covet me, Cara. What is it you want from me… Cara?"

Cara kicked the last scrap of clothing from her boots. "I want you to give to me what you give to Richard." Her voice was meant to be hard, aggressive. It wasn't.

Kahlan bent backward over a dresser, sprawling herself out, her dress pulling up over her legs to reveal the strong calves and creamy thighs emerging from her boots. Cara thought she could smell Kahlan's desire. "It's here, Cara. For the taking. Do whatever you want to me. Do what you've dreamed of."

Cara bent over Kahlan to thank her for this, for daring to love a Mord'Sith. Not even that, just someone too broken-down and pathetic to go after the woman she loved. And now she had her anyway. It was pure mercy. She kissed Kahlan like she could pack the culmination of all her doubt, all her probing, all her freedom into one kiss. It was impossible, but she would keep trying.

"Say it," Kahlan said as Cara moved lower, the words stirring a wisp of hair from her mouth.

"Say what?" Cara asked, leaning down to the hollow of Kahlan's throat. "That I'm fucking you?" She chuckled low in her throat. "Seems obvious."

"No, no." Kahlan tried to keep her voice even through Cara's assault on her breasts. "Tell me your feelings."

"I would die for you," Cara promised, sealing it with a kiss to Kahlan's speeding heart. "I would kill for you."

"Tell me you love me."

The strangest sort of emotion washed over Cara at the thought of saying those words, like when she had just set out with Richard and had her first stirrings of guilt for what she had done. The simple thought of telling Kahlan she loved her, as Kahlan and Richard had done countless times, let in all the hesitation she had suppressed in her life as a Mord'Sith.

Kahlan was so incensed by the pause that she grabbed Cara's face, forcing her to meet Kahlan's gaze. "Tell me."

"Kahlan, you know how I feel." She wanted to say the words, but they were enormous, too big to fit through her mouth.

Kahlan moved like liquid, suddenly on top of Cara, pinning her down. "Say the words."

It wasn't that the words wouldn't come out, it was that they weren't there. How did she feel about Kahlan? After all the heartache, all the lusting, what was left for them? What could she be to Kahlan? What could she say to her, in the calm hours of afterglow and waking? How could she touch her with her body swathed in leather, how could she hold Kahlan's hand or rub her back without getting the blood of old wounds on her? How could Kahlan ask this of her, all at once? How could Kahlan want her when there wasn't a her to want?

"Cara, _please_," Kahlan said. And just like that, a lump formed at her cleavage, growing and growing until it ripped through her skin. The tip of a blade, reaching for Cara. Sprayed with blood, she scrambled for her Agiels, flailing with the distended skin of her leathers, finally feeling the reassuring pain – such a welcome relief from the heat of Kahlan's touch and the mugginess of her blood. She swung and Dahlia blocked, her dacra dripping with blood, landing on Kahlan's corpse where it lay between them.


	18. We're a long way from home Part 11

Seeing Dahlia's face made Cara hesitate for the barest moment. It wasn't enough for Dahlia to capitalize on. Cara shoved Dahlia hard, then swept the dacra from her hand and pounded the Agiel into her stomach so hard it pinned her to the wall. Dahlia grabbed the Agiel and forced it off herself. The pain must've been excruciating, but she bought herself time to do something other than scream.

"Not her!"

Cara didn't listen. She pushed the Agiel in harder, like she was trying to pierce Dahlia through and through. Dahlia gritted her teeth and pleaded "Just look!" Cara reached for her other Agiel. When two were pressed into the offender's ear canals, it bestowed the Mord'Sith's most painful death. But when she touched her thigh, all she felt was the flesh Kahlan's hand had trailed over a minute ago, and Kahlan's blood. She turned to look for her Agiel and saw Kahlan—not bleeding, but leaking, _deflating._ Collapsing down into a creature of air and ichor. "What did you do to her?" Cara asked, removing the Agiel from Dahlia.

"Not her. A soul sylph. They show you your heart's desire to get close to their prey. I had to deal with one myself." Dahlia massaged at the varicose veins that had surfaced at the Agiel's touch. "It looked like you."

_Then that wasn't… of course it wasn't._ "How'd you know it wasn't me?"

"She said she loved me."

Putting an end to the conversation, Dahlia grabbed some spare clothes from a dresser and threw them to Cara. The blonde dressed hurriedly. 

* * *

The castle looked like the aftermath of some great drunken celebration. Men and women laid prostrate, hooked to soul sylphs. Richard and others were hacking them to pieces, but even with the sylphs gone, their victims stayed in their dream world.

He looked over at Cara and Dahlia, just long enough to note that they weren't enemies and, in passing, that Cara had hurriedly redressed in a spare dress, her red boots poking out conspicuously from under the ruffled skirt.

"Are you you?" he demanded, too worried to come up with better grammar.

"How many Lord Rahls do I have to kill before you show me some respect?"

Even under the circumstances, trust Richard to manage a smile. "You're still with us. That's a start." He darkened. "The war wizards have us surrounded and we're wide open. Once the sylphs have had their fill, we're theirs."

"You have six Mord'Sith. We'll hold them off."

"Until what?" Richard made a quick decision. "It's me he wants."

Panic struck Cara. A small, Mord'Sith part of her was aware that with Richard gone, there was nothing between her and Kahlan, but that part of her was small, notable more for its silence than its volume. "They'll kill you!"

"And no one else. Cara, Kahlan can't be moved. Whatever happens, we'll face it together. But you won't."

"Any sword that would touch you will be covered in my blood first."

"Not this time. There's a secret passage out of the castle. Loose stone in the larder. Use it. Find the Clear Eye's Fire. I'll buy you all the time you need." His smile didn't seem so genuine now. "You know how my brother loves to gloat."

"You can't trust me with this," Cara said bluntly. It was the simplest way to put it.

"I am. You've never let me down, Cara. This would not be a good time to start." He smiled reassuringly and despite all her instincts, Cara let herself be reassured. "Dahlia, there's a stockroom four doors down. Take whatever you need."

"I don't take orders from you," she snapped.

Cara touched her hand. "Please."

Dahlia took one look at Cara and moved off, slipping inside the stockroom.

"Take some of the Mord'Sith with you," Richard said. "Tell them to watch her."

"She saved my life."

"Someone let those things in here."

"It could've been the Mord'Sith, or a collaborator left over from the occupation."

Richard paused a moment. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could choose how we felt about people?"

If Richard was going to make a habit of talking like that, Cara resolved to ignore him more.

"There's time for you to say goodbye to Kahlan, if you like," Richard continued in his sensitive tone of voice.

"I've already said my goodbyes."

Dahlia emerged from the stockroom, a brown backpack ruining the effect of her clothes. "I packed light. I doubt we'll last long enough to starve."

Car went to Dahlia, but couldn't leave it at that. She took one last look at Richard. "And what's to stop Rahl from killing you on sight?"

Richard shrugged. "The Spirits." 

* * *

The Mord'Sith were dressing themselves when Cara arrived, a chorus of leather creaking and laces being drawn taut. Whatever they'd been doing naked, they didn't mind the interruption. For a Sister of the Agiel, sex was a close second to combat.

The wounded were subordinate to the healthy, except in Triana's case. She had two unscathed Mord'Sith all to herself. Cara walked right up to her, pretending to not know how unimposing she was in a peasant's dress. "I have a mission from Lord Rahl. Everyone who can fight is to accompany me."

"What about Richard?" Berdine asked, frustrating Raina's attempts to clothe her. "Who will look after him?"

Give Richard a few days and he had trained Mord'Sith acting like he was their bosom buddy. "Lord Rahl is remaining here to set a trap for Jagang. He's trusting us to come through for him."

"A Mord'Sith's place is with her Lord Rahl," Triana said. "We will not abandon him."

"He has given an order."

"Then he is not in his right mind, trusting his well-being to you. You aren't strong. You aren't pure. You are not Mord'Sith."

Cara stared into the eyes of her lover, her sister, her oldest friend. "No. I suppose not."

She left before any of them had a chance to follow her. Even so, Berdine found her before she could leave.

"Take this," she said, clasping a rolled-up sheet of parchment into Cara's hands. "I found it while helping the wizard with his research. Neither of us can figure it out, but maybe it will help you."

Cara nodded respectfully. "Thank you."

"If you need her, I can get Raina to go with you."

"No. Keep her close. Keep her close until you realize how lucky you are to have found her. And then you'll keep her closer." 

* * *

"I trust you, Richard." Kahlan's words echoed in Richard's mind as he walked out of the castle, the Mother Confessor herself limping beside him. Just the sight of the pain walking brought her moved him to a bestial rage, but he kept it contained. The feel of her deceptively delicate hand in his was enough for that.

Outside, the war wizards circled the castle, more beast than men, baying for blood, howling at the moon, but not letting themselves into range of any magic or long-range weaponry from the towers. Jagang and his lap dog, Darken Rahl, stood directly opposite Richard, waiting patiently as he approached them.

One hand laid white-knuckled on the Sword of Truth.

"Well, well, well. The Seeker and his pet Confessor. What a delightful surprise," Rahl drawled, stroking his goatee. Richard let him run his mouth. "What are you doing out on such a chilly night? I thought you were so cozy inside your little castle…"

"You have two choices," Richard said. "The first is that we stop with the pleasantries and try to kill each other. Keep in mind, Jagang, you've hurt and killed people I call friend. You've allied yourself with a butcher and a rapist. You've turned my hometown into a charnel house. So right now, it's about all I can do to keep this sword from leaping into your heart of its own accord. And assuming you do stop me from doing that, you're still have to deal with Kahlan. She'll go into Con Dar the second you touch me."

"I'm halfway there already," Kahlan muttered.

"I don't know how war wizards are at dealing with confession, but I doubt you'd consider this a good way to find out."

Jagang barked something in guttural High D'Haran. Rahl translated. "And option two?"

"We surrender. You free these people from the throes of the soul sylphs and let them leave unharmed."

"Very well," Rahl began.

"Not you. I want to hear it from him." Richard stared into Jagang's eyes. "Legend has it you were a man of honor once. Whatever else you've become, I don't think that's changed about you."

Rahl smirked. "It's a trick, my liege. My brother is the appallingly heroic black sheep of the family. He'd be happy to go to his grave in some suicidal last-ditch effort. The fact that he isn't is proof that he has something up his sleeve." Rahl deliberately turned his back on Richard to face Jagang. "Then again, all of Richard's muscles are in perfect proportion, save for the one that matters. Whatever he has planned, I doubt it will have any bearing on our stratagem."

Jagang let more eerily discordant D'Haran syllables ooze from his lips.

"We accept," Rahl said, turning to Richard. "Lay down your sword."

"He's telling the truth," Kahlan said. The effort of standing upright was starting to show in her voice.

Richard untied his sword belt, dropping it to the ground before him. "I should warn you, 'brother'. Anything you do to me or Kahlan will have a definite bearing on your stratagem."

"Oh, Richard, if only Father hadn't spirited you off to this quaint Midland village. It would've been enjoyable growing up with you. Like having a puppy that could talk." With a gesture, the Sword of Truth flew to Rahl's hand. "I haven't the least interest in you. Just this oversized kitchen knife of yours."


	19. We're a long way from home Part 12

Cara moved through the night like a boulder picking up speed, her control so damaged that she swiped at everything she passed. Branches broke. Rocks shot away from her.

Dahlia struggled to keep up. In the dark, every branch and vine seemed out to get her. "Cara, wait!"

"No one asked you to come along," Cara fired back, ripping her dress on a bush. She soldiered on regardless.

"But I am, so maybe you could cut me a little slack." Dahlia rushed forward and grabbed Cara's tightly fisted hand. Cara turned, raising her Agiel. "If beating on me will make you feel better, do it. I could use the practice."

Cara's Agiel didn't waver as she tucked it into its holster. "We've stopped. What do you want?"

"I'd like to know what the plan is."

"The plan is I'm going to find anyone Darken Rahl has ever shared two words with and hurt him until he tells me where the Clear Eye's Fire is."

Dahlia's lips quirked. "How long have you been serving Richard again?"

"I suppose you have a better idea."

"I still serve the Keeper and he still counts Darken Rahl as an enemy. We retire for the night. In the morning, suitably rested, I'll commune with the Keeper. With all the people dying lately, he must know something."

Cara stepped closer to her, close enough to see her eyes stayed as they were in the dim starlight. "Do it now."

"Talking to the Keeper of the Underworld isn't child's play. It takes time and energy. I don't have either in abundance."

"I could make you," Cara stated.

"Could you?" Dahlia replied, staring into her eyes.

Cara looked away. She'd have to find shelter. 

* * *

Dahlia couldn't sleep because Cara couldn't sleep. She was pacing the width and breadth of the cave, boots treading inches from Dahlia's nose.

Cara couldn't sleep because the past couldn't sleep. It awoke in her memory with every passing moment. _It was a cave like this with Leo. It was a dress like this with my sister._

She was not the woman in those memories anymore. She was not Mord'Sith. What _was_ she?

Cara stopped, cold. Dahlia was looking at her, eyes full of concern. But not just concern.

Cara was through wasting time on talk, being a trained lap dog when she could be a predator. "Get up," she said.

Dahlia stood reluctantly. "Cara," she started. And stopped. "Cara, what do you want from me?"

"It's what we both want," Cara said, bunching her hands in Dahlia's hateful red dress and pulling her close, jerking them together so the breath went out of Dahlia's lungs. "You want this. I know you want this."

She buried her teeth in Dahlia's neck, getting things off to a fast start. Dahlia was the kind of woman who appreciated being handled, Cara could just tell. She felt Dahlia stiffen with desire, sucking in breath and then pushing it out again, Cara's hands running over her body doling out pleasure to go with the pain. Within moments, Cara knew Dahlia was an exquisite instrument. She could keep her on the cusp for hours, addicted to what she was feeling, controlled and leashed and subordinate.

Only Dahlia was resisting. Cara could feel her body fighting against what it was taking in. "You don't," Dahlia said, and Cara paused. "You're alone and confused and you just want something that makes sense. But you don't want me. You don't love me. That's what I want."

Cara threw Dahlia down with a huff. Dahlia stayed on the ground, staring up at Cara with wondering eyes. Cara stalked over to the opposing wall and sat down against it.

Dahlia listened to the sound of her angry footsteps fading into echoes, then sat up. There were four feet and many years between her and Cara.

Cara rubbed her cold arms, pale from so many years in leather, varicose veins standing out like the scars no one had been good enough to put on her. "I can still feel the leather… it's my skin now. I'll always be like this, won't I?" She looked up at Dahlia. Her eyes begged.

"It looks good on you." That was all the comfort she could offer.

Aching for distraction, Cara pulled the parchment Berdine had given her from her pack. When she opened it, she saw it was lettered in High D'Haran, but she felt confident she could make out all of what it said.

_Cleansed of black until it shines of white  
Made whole from what was always divided  
Full of pain until set free  
No hate, no fear, no hunger, no want  
The blind will see by the Clear Eye's Fire_

After reading it aloud, she stuffed the parchment back into her pack. "It doesn't even rhyme."

"It probably did in the original language," Dahlia replied.

"What do you think it means?"

"It means we should get some sleep."

Cara leaned back, arms crossed, hair falling in front of her face, almost concealing her bright gaze. She kept her eyes on Dahlia. Dahlia understood. A Mord'Sith didn't need sleep. Didn't need trust. And although she held herself as still as any sleeper, Cara didn't rest.

Feeling those half-closed eyes on her, Dahlia stood. By the embers of the fire she stretched, preened really, letting her robes shift over her as she worked the kinks out of her bones. The red fabric did little to contain her breasts, or to conceal the definition of her abs. A smile flickered over her lips as she heard Cara's breathing quicken. Then, with autoerotic showmanship, she began to shadow-box. Her fists sung through the air, oxygen crying out for mercy.

Cara craned her head for a better look. It was an eerie sight, Dahlia straining and fighting against an enemy that wasn't there, not making a single noise. Cara laughed mockingly.

"What's so funny?" Dahlia asked, straining her muscles into a statue-still combat stance.

"Your stance is all wrong. Too stiff. You're moving, not standing at attention. You don't have to hold a pose like a painter's model."

"I could hold this stance for hours."

Cara picked up a rock and threw it. Although it was scarcely bigger than a pebble, it hit Dahlia under the knee and knocked her off-balance. She had to windmill her arms in a completely undignified manner to keep her footing. Fuming, she drew her dacras and worked her way through their exercise, her blows finely slicing the air.

"Need any help?" Cara asked.

Dahlia laughed, once. "From you?"

She focused on the dacras. Not on Cara, not on the future. On how sharp and cold and hard metal could be.

Then Cara was next to her, taking hold of her arm, and Dahlia felt a momentary burst of panic, her muscles tensing like she was going to jerk herself away from Cara. She forced it down, chiding herself for showing weakness. It didn't matter. Cara would let go of her.

"What are you waiting for?" Dahlia asked. "Help me."

"Okay." More carefully, Cara grabbed her arm. "Show me a punch."

She did, extending the arm slowly, fist coiled, then retracting it back to a power stance.

"Again."

She did. This time Cara twisted it, bringing her arm around to chop at the bone, all in the same courtly motion Dahlia moved at. Cara stopped short of hitting her. Her hold on Dahlia was firm now, confident.

"Stiffness and ritual give you strength, but they also leave you vulnerable. Loosen up. Let yourself listen to your instincts."

"Did the Seeker teach you that?"

Cara flushed. "It wasn't something I was taught. It was something I learned."

Dahlia threw the punch, Cara twisted it, Dahlia pulled back, yanking Cara off-balance. The Mord'Sith was pulled up short against the Dark Sister. Dahlia could feel Cara's body against hers, so much power housed there that the softness of her dress, and the smell of her hair, seemed incongruous. A contradiction in terms.

Cara's body was tensing, moving, and it took Dahlia a moment to realize she was pulling away, but she was still holding onto her. Dahlia's fingers loosened and Cara took a step back. "Who was it you were punching?"

"Not you, since that's what you're worried about."

"Worry? About you?"

Dahlia held up her hands. "Show me why you're not worried."

Like an odd ballet, Cara threw the punch. It sluggishly collided with Dahlia's hands, and even slowed down it sent force trembling up her arms. The blow had shifted Cara's sleeve from her arm, and Dahlia ran a hand down the revealed muscles like a craftsman examining a piece of wood for imperfections. She gave Cara's arm a twist and Cara instantly reacted, slipping out of her grasp and striking at her throat.

She caught it in a throttle, fingers splayed toward her ears. Robbed of its threat and speed, the gesture struck Dahlia as oddly intimate. She could feel the strength primed in Cara's fingers, the calluses that ended them like claws, how gentle she was despite all that. Her hand shook before she pulled it away. As she did, Dahlia's hand was lifting up as if to cover Cara's. They hovered there, like fuses waiting to be lit.

"Loose," Dahlia repeated. "Never thought of it that way."

She struck at Cara, arms cycling at her sides. Cara blocked, the thud of flesh against flesh reverently muted. When Dahlia looked at her, she could see Cara's pores had ignited with sweat, shining across her face. Then when she blocked, Dahlia grabbed her by her extended arm and flipped her, depositing Cara on the floor, hard.

"You get the idea," Cara said, getting to her feet. She was surprised when Dahlia pulled her up. Cara paced a few steps, looking at Dahlia from a different angle, then sidled down the cave wall until she was sitting, just a pair of legs sprawling out into the firelight. She wasn't exhausted, just still. Dahlia wondered if it was the fight that had done it, or her.

She sat across from Cara, the fire between them, the same warmth pervading them both. Then, slowly and a little bit stiffly, Dahlia extended her leg until it laid alongside Cara's, her toes connected to the inside of Cara's knee, not rubbing like a flirt, but simply serving as a pint of contact for the two women, a reminder for Cara that Dahlia was there. A reminder that didn't need her to keep her eyes open.

It wasn't much, but Cara's eyes closed and her breathing evened out into sleep. That was enough.

And when Cara was fully asleep, head down and face soft like the child Dahlia had once known, the Dark Sister roused herself. She walked a short distance from the cave to the clearing in the woods where Darken Rahl was waiting.

"Hello, Dahlia. How's my wayward Mord'Sith? Sleeping well?"

Dahlia shrugged noncommittally. Rahl frightened her. Always had, always would. "She was the last time I checked."

"Good. She always did sleep best after a good fucking. You shouldn't have interrupted me so soon. It might've made her more personable to you."

"We needed her," Dahlia said gently. "Not what would be left of her. The important thing is that she trusts me now. You can have her all to yourself when we're done."

Rahl winced, mock-hurt. "I've never known you to be so defensive of another. It's rather cute."

"Are you questioning my loyalty?"

"No. Your judgment. We're so close to the end, little sister. I'd hate to see you fail the Keeper at such a crucial juncture. And I know better than anyone how… tantalizing Cara can be."

"I don't."

Rahl chuckled, amused. "Have you asked why she hasn't killed you yet? It'd be her safest option. And she's never been a team player."

The question brought Dahlia up short. On some level, she suspected Cara had an attachment to her, something she was trying to prove, but she'd never consciously thought about it. She went with the first alternative that popped into her head. "She's squeamish. The Seeker has made her weak."

Rahl laughed louder. "No. Not all the time in the world could erase my training. She sees something in you. Or perhaps you see something in her."

"Don't be absurd."

"Don't tell me you don't have things in common with her. Don't tell me you don't hate it. It's the reason she'll never love you. She can't. You exemplify all the parts of herself she hates."

"Why would I want her love?" Dahlia kicked the subject elsewhere. "Did the soul sylphs work?"

"Perfectly. Thank you for letting them in. I'm sure my brother greatly appreciated them."

Dahlia nodded to herself. "Then it really is the end."

"At first light, I'd imagine. Bring Cara here." Darken Rahl brought his hands together. "I'll deal with her personally."

"As you wish."


	20. We're a long way from home Part 13

Once again, Dahlia found she didn't know what to do with herself. The feeling usually passed quickly. This time it didn't. She added wood to the fire, but it didn't warm her. Nor did the sight of Cara sleeping. She had to tell her something, give her some last comfort to take with her to Darken Rahl. It was weak and pathetic, but it was how she felt.

Morning came faster than Dahlia could've believed. Despite her insomnia, she didn't feel tired. She was in a haze that was beyond sleep, but through it, she could sense Cara waking up, a subtle feeling like the temperature had gone up five degrees.

Cara opened her eyes, already focused on Dahlia. "Good morning."

Dahlia kept her eyes on the rabbit she was cooking, not wanting the image of a sleeping, peaceful Cara to fade. "Morning."

Cara levered herself up, eyes scanning for disturbances, mouth a different story. "I had a dream last night."

"Oh?" Dahlia's brow furrowed. Was Cara trying to psych her out or was this… smalltalk?

"I dreamed that on the day I was taken, you were taken too. We became Mord'Sith together. We were never parted."

"What a nightmare."

Cara crossed over to the fire-pit. "Dahlia, look at me." She did. Cara smoothed the dress over her body. She didn't look as uncomfortable in it as she had last night. "I don't want to be a Mord'Sith. I want to be gentle. I want to be in love."

Dahlia stood. It didn't help. Cara's gaze was more pressing and direct than Dahlia had ever seen it. "I can't help you."

"You already have." She stepped closer, body melding with Dahlia's, her eyes inescapable. "You'll die someday. Serve the Keeper then. For now, _live._ Renounce the Keeper. Serve the Creator. Serve _me_."

Dahlia didn't know what to say. So she just stood there as Cara kissed her.

The kiss really wasn't like Cara at all. Dahlia wondered if Kahlan had taught it to her.

Cara pulled back and _looked_ at Dahlia. That same look Dahlia had seen so many times, Cara probing for weaknesses, but different now. Everything was different now.

"Don't say anything," Cara told her. "Not if you don't have to. Other people say things in the heat of the moment; they make promises they can't keep. We're smarter than that." But as she gathered her things, Dahlia could see there was something she'd wanted to hear.

She gave Cara the next best thing. "The Keeper came to me in a dream. He told me where to go." 

* * *

Dahlia mollified the knowledge that soon she would be parted from Cara by attempting to learn as much about her, from her, as she could while Cara was still with her. It was an idiosyncratic process. Little of what she learned was applicable, but it still struck her as vastly important.

Take the way Cara ran, for instance. When Dahlia ran, she kept her eyes on the distance, smoothly ferreting out possible obstacles and making lithe course corrections to avoid them while still keeping to the shortest distance between her origin and her destination.

Cara didn't. She seemed to run straight and true, and everything just seemed to get out of her way. Then she stopped. They'd come to a cut-off in the woodlands, a bluff overlooking a long expanse of grassland. Cara climbed onto a rocky outcropping and added to the rip she'd made in her skirt to run. Dahlia watched the sweat glisten on her legs and hated the Creator for making such an imperfect world.

"Are we close?" Cara asked, taking a drink from a waterskin before offering it to Dahlia.

Dahlia took it. "Very close." She drank, feeling Cara's eyes on her as her thirst died away. "What did you do, Cara? When Darken Rahl asked you to do all those things that made you a monster, what did you do?"

Cara looked at her like it was the most foolish question in existence. "I obeyed. Because he was the Lord Rahl, and I trusted him. And then I spent a few years hating myself and not knowing why. And one day I realized I could've said no. After that, the only way to live with myself was to start saying no."

Like a building crumbling after its support beams snapped, Dahlia fell upon Cara. Her arms winded around Cara and her face burrowed into pale, exposed skin now browning in the sun after so much time under leather.

Dahlia felt Cara tense, as if she knew the embrace for the trap it was, but then she gave in.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Then Cara felt Dahlia's head shake against her shoulder. Dahlia pulled back, paused, then moved in. Her lips parted as they approached Cara's.

"I'm sorry."

The arrow hit Cara in back of the shoulder, just aside her spine. She stiffened, breath retreating from her lungs, eyes opening to show all their whites. Her hands had already grasped her Agiels, but before they could be drawn, a war wizard tackled her to the ground.

Dahlia knelt down beside her, unstrapping the Agiels and pulling away their holsters.

On the other side of Cara, Darken Rahl knelt down to pry the arrow from her flesh. "I must admit, I was always a little bemused by the efficiency of my Mord'Sith. All it takes is a sharp piece of rock and a little distraction, and here we are."

Dahlia flung the Agiels over the bluff. Hateful things. "Make it quick. You owe her that much."

"Owe?" Rahl tapped the war wizard on the shoulder and gestured for him to pull Cara up. "I'll give her exactly what she's owed." 

* * *

They'd already picked out a spot. Two trees grew close enough together for Cara to be strung up between them. Darken Rahl tied her up himself, tightening the ropes until they cut off her circulation. Cara murmured as her skin was rubbed raw, but her eyes stayed locked on Dahlia.

Dahlia watched Rahl as he tied each knot with monomaniacal precision. This wasn't about D'Hara and the Midlands, it was about him and her. It was a blood feud. And this wasn't an execution either. It was vengeance. Cara had hurt Rahl, and now Rahl would return that pain. Dahlia wished she could be surprised.

"It's not too late, you know," Rahl said, testing the rope for any slack. "We can go back to the way things were."

Cara smiled at him like he was the one in bondage. "And how would you be sure I wouldn't put an Agiel in your back first chance I get?"

"I have ways."

Cara's smile was fixed. "Kill me. Just kill me."

Rahl let out a long-suffering sigh and moved away. "I'll leave you two alone," he said to Dahlia, bringing her to Cara's attention. "I have some guests to attend to."

As he walked away, green light flashed; his magic taking him away. Dahlia didn't watch. Her eyes were on Cara.

They were alone, except for the war wizard, who didn't count. He stared off into the distance, and every few minutes a tree burst into flame near him. His eyes, glazed over as they were, seemed to follow the smoke.

Cara stood there, not pulling against the ropes but sagging in their grip. It hurt, having her arms extended, but she was tired of standing on her feet. And pain was something it looked as if she would have to get used to, all over again.

Betrayed by Dahlia. Captured by Darken Rahl. Déjà vu. And what a flaw for a Mord'Sith to have, anyway. Always managing to fall in love with the wrong person.

She looked at Dahlia. Still beautiful. Not smug in her victory, but as remorseful as a martyr. A fanatic's sorrow, that the sinful world had driven her to this.

"If you ever loved me," Cara said. "You'd put your dacra through my heart right now. I'd consider it a personal favor."

Dahlia, thrown off-balance, launched into speech without preamble. "Rahl is going to hurt you. There is no changing that, you've angered him profoundly. But once you've gotten past that…"

"Once I've gotten past being broken again? You'll pick up the pieces and sew me back together and have a nice little Cara-doll to play with. And you and me and Darken Rahl will be one happy family. I'll die first, Dahlia. I'll make him kill me."

Dahlia stepped out of Cara's view, only to return from behind, wrapping her arms around Cara's waist and pulling her up so her arms weren't under strain. Cara closed her eyes against the intimacy of it all.

"Please," Dahlia pleaded. "Please come back to me. Please don't give up."

"I haven't given up," Cara said, no anger in her voice. No anything in her voice. "I've learned." 

* * *

Dahlia walked away. For ten minutes she strolled through the forest, until she couldn't smell the smoke off the trees her ally was burning just for the flames. She thought of how wonderful it would be once Cara… was cured of her stubbornness. Whatever reward the Keeper bestowed upon her for her service, she would split it with Cara. Being together would almost be a life worth living. As close as a breathing soul could come to a perfect world.

She walked back. Cara was once more a dead weight on her bonds, breathing hard now with the effort of filling her lungs. Dahlia pulled her up to her feet and Cara mercifully stayed there, staring at Dahlia

"I'm sorry," Dahlia said.

"No, you're not!" Cara snapped. Then, with that same fire, "If I get out of these ropes, then you will be."

"The way you kissed me…" Dahlia said, and that shut Cara up. "The way you loved me. I'm not worthy of that love."

Cara looked away, tired of talk. Dahlia stepped closer to her.

"No one is, Cara. Not one soul. Wouldn't it be better for everyone if we all just stopped hurting each other and… went to sleep?"

Cara looked Dahlia in the eye. "Kahlan deserves love. Richard deserves love. And if you hate the world so much, cut me loose. I'll help you leave."

A strand of hair had fallen over Cara's face. To busy herself, Dahlia tucked it behind Cara's ear. "Soon, you'll thank me for this. You'll love me for this."

She turned away to take another break from Cara's stare.

"I loved you before," Cara said. 

* * *

Hours passed until… Green flames. A whisper of robes. Darken Rahl strode back into the clearing, turning a simple Agiel over in his hands. "Hello again, Cara. Emperor Jagang sends his regards."

Cara muttered under her breath. It was only when Rahl got closer that he heard what she was saying. He beckoned Dahlia closer to hear it too.

"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours."

Dahlia brightened, a genuine smile blooming under her veil.

Rahl reached out to caress Cara's face. "My child."

She looked up sharply, breaking the chant. "I wasn't talking to you."

Unshaken, Rahl pulled his hand back and let it swing from side to side, catching Cara at the apex of its arc. Her head rocked to the side. She began the chant again.

Darken Rahl turned to the war wizard, stopping him before he added to the collection of ashes where once there'd been a copse. "Leave us. This is D'Haran business."

Green flame obliterated the war wizard from sight, throwing Rahl's smile into sick relief.

"She was working for you all along," Cara said, pointedly not looking at Dahlia.

"No. I was working for the Keeper all along. Really now, how did you expect him to take the land of the living? You used the Stone of Tears. You sealed the rifts. Destroying the world is no longer an option. But ruling it, in his name, by his mandate…" Rahl spread his arms wide. "Well. Better some souls than none at all. And this way, there will always be someone to fear the Keeper."

"You used me," Cara said. "Once I got her into the castle, she let in the soul sylphs."

"Yes. And now I have my arch-enemy in chains, my queen waiting to be wed… you call her Mother Confessor, but Lady Rahl will be a much greater honor… and you. Cara. Just waiting to be shown the light."

Cara looked him in the eye. "Rahl. Kill me now. Because when I claw and scratch and dig my way out of the Underworld to kill you, I won't be able to cause as much pain to you as I will alive."

Rahl smirked and held up the Agiel. "Do you know what this is, Cara?"

"Better than you could possibly imagine."

"Then _imagine_, for a moment, that this had more power than the simple spell cast on a simple leather rod. Imagine if it was enhanced by all the spirits of all the lives you've taken. All the people who've died, in pain, in violence, because of you. Just _imagine_ if they had a chance for revenge." He moved in close, whispering in her ear like a lover. "You'll break. You won't have a choice."

He extracted a scroll from his sleeve and handed it to Dahlia. "Read. Invest your Han in it."

Holding the scroll up so it blocked Cara's face, Dahlia read the words even as they seemed to squirm on the vellum, like butterflies pinned to a collection. "**Udun, udun oda—udun oda ada, malfis…**"

The Agiel floated out of Rahl's hand. Where the light hit it, it now seemed to give off a faintly green glow.

Cara stared at Rahl steadfastly. "You should kill me now. I bore easily."

"I would, only you people have the stubborn habit of getting better. So I'm breaking you, Cara. I'm breaking you like I should've done when you were a child."

"You should do comedy more often. You're good at it."

"Keep going," Rahl said calmly; this directed at Dahlia, who had faltered uncertainly. She'd felt the sting of an Agiel before. They were meant to break people. What would an Agiel meant to break _Mord'Sith_ feel like? How much would it hurt?

She started to read again.

"Can I ask a question, Darken? Before you break me?" Cara's last words were full to the brim with sarcasm.

Rahl smiled indulgently at her. "Anything."

Dahlia continued the chant.

Cara smiled back at Rahl. "For the longest time, I thought my father betrayed me. It wasn't until recently that I learned that was a lie told to me by your Mord'Sith."

"Would you like to know if that was my idea? I did come up with so many ways to improve the Mord'Sith. In fact, in another life, I think I'd have made a good one myself."

"No. I don't really care," Cara said. "It's been so long that I've forgotten all that bitterness I used to hold for my father. All I remember now is how he loved me. But your father… he conceived a child solely to kill you."

"Keep going," Rahl said, his voice chilled. Dahlia had faltered again.

"I suppose you can forget about that… your own father, wishing you dead. After all, the House of Rahl is like that. No room for the weak. Kill or be killed. But I met Panis Rahl. He was a good man, trying to make amends for the sins of his youth… and his dying words were about how he wished he had killed you when he had the chance. You. His firstborn son. So, since my father loved me until the very end, I would like to know… what's it like to live without a father's love?"

Rahl stared at her for a moment, expressionless. In fact, it was that very lack of affect that showed her she had skewered him. He was frozen, without answer, without a glib dismissal. The only reply he could make was to stalk over to Dahlia, grab the scroll from her, and read it himself, his voice exploding out every word. "**Udun jin portho! Udun bi ononnon!**

Cara smiled and bopped her head insouciantly to the spellcasting. At least when she died, she wouldn't have to see that irritating smirk on his face.

The Agiel was green now, almost on fire, but flames were a part of the natural world and whatever energies were possessing it weren't. It was simply green, because green came the closest to the color of something that actually existed. Cara couldn't look at it without a memory coming up, someone she'd killed on Rahl's orders, or in combat, or because she was young and she hadn't yet learned how to break someone without murdering them. She didn't look away. She never had before and she wouldn't now.

The Agiel took on an apocalyptic hue, too bright to look at, then settled to a throbbing intensity.

"Take it, Dahlia," Rahl commanded. "Don't worry. The spirits can only hurt those who've hurt them."

Dahlia obediently took hold of the Agiel. Just touching it filled her with melancholy. The spirits were still grieving their deaths.

"Put it to her breast," Rahl continued. "Don't let up until she screams."

Dahlia held it up to Cara. She didn't flinch. She didn't moan. She didn't even look at the Agiel. She just stared at Dahlia, as if she'd been expecting this for a long time.

Dahlia's hand tightened on the Agiel. "Lord Rahl, I have a question too."

"What is it?" Rahl asked, impatient, but enjoying the suspense.

"You made Cara a Mord'Sith. You gave her orders. You even brought about her service to Richard, leading her to kill those who threatened him. So… shouldn't these spirits want to revenge themselves on _you_?"

Rahl didn't even have time to scream as Dahlia plunged the Agiel into his chest. Then he had plenty of opportunity to scream. The rest of his life, in fact.

Dahlia left him screaming himself bloodily hoarse to free Cara, cutting her loose with one swipe of her dacras. Cara's hands fell to her sides.

"Come on, we have to go," Dahlia was saying. "Jagang will send his men soon."

Cara pushed her aside. Bent down to pick up the Agiel. It hurt, but not even as much as her own weapons. "It barely hurts." She turned on Dahlia. "Why not?"

"They don't blame you for their deaths, Cara."

"No. No, that's impossible. Someone must—"

"Almost everyone who does, can't recognize you. Cara… it wasn't your fault. And with the good spirits in the Creator's arms, they can see that."

Cara fell to her knees, besides Darken Rahl. She turned to him slowly, becoming aware of him. His breathing, his cringing, his past.

"Cara, we have to go!" Dahlia said.

"Not yet." Cara pulled Rahl out of his fetal position, spreading him out below her. "The day you forced me into the Seeker's arms was the day my life began… and yours ended." With both hands, she raised the Agiel above her head… and buried it in his heart.

As he lay dying, Darken Rahl was in too much pain to even breathe.

"Stay dead this time. Or next time I won't let you off so easy."


	21. We're a long way from home Part 14

When the D'Harans had occupied Hartland, they'd left a supply house. Cara had familiarized herself with its location, as well as all salient geography of Richard's home, before setting foot across the Boundary.

It didn't delight her to find Richard's people had left it boarded up and abandoned. Nothing could penetrate the fury she'd nestled herself in like a blanket. But it didn't irritate her.

She kicked the door down, further tearing the skirt of her dress. Inside were swords, shields, armor, all united under the banner of Darken Rahl. She pulled that down first and set to polishing the first sword she could get her hands on. If she had to personally hack each war wizard into undying pieces, she would rejoice at the opportunity.

"Cara." Dahlia stood in the doorway, her face looking like it was held together by strings slowly being cut. " This silence is torment. Say something."

Cara drew her whetstone across the blade so hard that sparks flew. "Stop following me or I'll kill you."

Dahlia bowed her head. "Nothing can excuse how I betrayed you."

"So stop talking."

Dahlia's words rushed out to meet Cara's rebuke. "At least let me restore to you what I helped take away."

"I don't want your help." The sword was as sharp as it would get. "I don't want anyone's _help._ I'm tired of all of you trying to change me, civilize me, turn me into something I'm not."

The armor hadn't rusted. She ripped the hem from her dress and pulled the chainmail on over it. The Rahl family crest was affixed in fabric to her breast. She tore it away, leaving pure, gleaming metal.

"If you would listen for one moment, please Cara, just listen—" Dahlia's voice was weak, infuriatingly weak. And Cara had still been beaten by her.

She jabbed the sword into Dahlia's gut. It was sharp enough after all. Dahlia grimaced appropriately for the inch of steel Cara had put inside her.

"Bleed somewhere else," Cara told her, "or die here. Your choice." 

* * *

Cara gritted her teeth when she saw how Hartland was defended: both because Jagang's men were too arrogant to properly defend their perimeter, merely standing like statues around the village at regular intervals, and because they were justified in their arrogance. She could think of no way to get past their magic, no way to get to her Lord Rahl, no way to save Kahlan.

She needed to be calm. Her anger was one more thing she couldn't rely on. She couldn't trust it to carry her through bloodshed anymore, she didn't have the Seeker's family or her Sisters of the Agiel to stand beside her. She didn't even have her leathers.

All she had was the thought of Kahlan, more frustrating, more passionate, more _strong_ than her whole world. What would Kahlan do? 

* * *

Magic coursed through and off the war wizards as she approached, a pilfered traveling cloak covering her armament. She'd already slapped herself until her eyes had had no choice but to water.

"Please don't hurt me," she said, once within earshot. 

* * *

The worst part about Hartland was how normal it looked. The eye perceived it as an ordinary town, waiting to wake up… only the sun was high in the sky and blood was smeared about like old rain and if you turned the wrong corner you saw war wizards fighting over corpses like dogs with a bone. Cara had to shut her eyes repeatedly against the discordance… as intrusive as Mord'Sith onto a quiet father-daughter walk.

The war wizards pushed her along, hyena-laughing when she fell down and had to pick herself up. There was a childishness to them that Cara couldn't help but fear. Mord'Sith were taken as children because that was when they could be most cruel.

Finally, Cara was shoved into town square. Her heart skipped a beat. The crossroads had been utterly destroyed, dropped into the earth by weight of sheer magic. At the bottom, a good fifty feet down, Richard's friends and neighbors were imprisoned. Cara scanned their upturned faces for Kahlan, Richard, even Zedd. She soon got a closer look. One last push from the war wizards sent her skidding and tumbling down the sharply-angled slope.

Cara landed, feeling the irritatingly insubstantial pain of skinned knees and elbows. No one helped her up, so at least they recognized her that much. She stood and ignored the twinge of old pains through her bones. "Where's Richard? Kahlan?"

"Taken," said a youth. "They-the freaks-they said they'd bear witness."

Cara bit her lip. Jagang was going to revel in his power over the Seeker, one last time. That gave her breathing room. The embers in her heart waiting for fuel instead cooled infinitesimally more. Her thoughts flowed like water bursting through a dam. She knew what could be done.

Past the lip of the pit, she could see the chimneys that rose above sloping roofs. One still puffed the smoke of a cooking fire. It loomed large, a great length of it towering into view. The house it belonged to had to be closest to the pit.

She pointed. "Does that house have a cellar? A basement?"

The crowd was losing interest in her. She raised her voice and put some steel in it to repeat the question. They heard the threat in her words and someone stepped forward to say "That's my house. I have a wine cellar."

"Good. Then we dig. All of us."

"You want us to spend our last hours digging like dogs?"

She smiled at the man who'd spoken, a graybeard who reminded her of Zedd. "Would you rather spend them with a Mord'Sith?"

They went to work, and she joined in. Kahlan would be proud at her having inspired them. 

* * *

In short order, the sheer activity of the labor focused and energized the Hartlanders. They dug because it was an act of defiance, because it was something the war wizards hadn't taken from them. Cara had to cycle the mob so fresh diggers got a chance. When her tireless fingers finally scrapped through dirt to hard rock, it was like waking up. Cara laughed out loud and then kicked in the wall of the cellar with her boot. It gave in one blow.

The others tore away the rest of the wall with bare hands and they streamed inside, making a beeline for the stairs. Cara hung back. Her job was only half-done. Darken Rahl must've hidden the Clear Eye's Fire somewhere close. Having it under Jagang's nose would stroke his ego more than sex and conquest. And if Rahl could also snipe at Richard in the process, all his antagonisms would be fed.

Didn't Richard have a house in the village? No, she'd heard it had burned down, but his brother... oh, that would be even better for Rahl's vendetta. Remind Richard of the good brother while he went through the bad brother. The Fire would be in Michael's house.

She went up the stairs, shoving her way to the front of the line, and came up onto a battlefield. The war wizards were swooping in, indulging themselves in the recapture of the villagers. Richard's people were frozen into statues and snatched up like field mice by barn owls. Many of them were trying to fight back, and by amusing the war wizards they lived longer.

Cara ducked into an alleyway and moved in the shadow of a house to the next neighborhood and hopped the fence and ran behind it until she couldn't hear any more screaming. Saw Michael's house, palatial by Hartland standards, the paint fresh and full on two stories. Kicked the door instead of seeing if it was unlocked and inside the dust of Michael's death was disturbed. Rahl had noticed and used magic to erase his footprints, but the dust was still heavier here than there. Where would he hide something? It would have to be somewhere he could get to it quickly-turning against Jagang wouldn't leave much chances for finesse (neither would using the Lord Rahl's hometown as a diversion, and Cara was shocked how much she cared suddenly). Rahl was all id, a child really, and his rivalry with Richard would come down to crude sexuality. He'd often spoken to Cara of taking Richard's woman, being the one to have the Mother Confessor as Richard could not, talk that now made Cara flush with hatred, and that emotion heated her thoughts, made them flow faster. The bedroom. Rahl would've snickered at the thought of spoiling Richard's wedding bed with this business, as subconscious as that notion would be. Cara ran to the bedroom, overturned the bed. One of the floorboards rested higher than the others. Cara pulled it the rest of the way out of the floor and there it was. A dagger with a blade shaped like fire, a pommel shaped like an eye.

It was then that Cara realized two things. She had no idea how the Clear Eye's Fire worked, and she could hear the screaming from the center of town. Either it'd gotten louder, or she'd gotten worse at ignoring it.

Cara stuffed the dagger in her belt. She hoped she didn't have to get Kahlan to cry again.


	22. We're a long way from home Part 15

"What a weapon." Jagang slid the Sword of Truth through the air. "Fit to unite a kingdom." He slashed at a barrel and watched it fall to pieces. "To depose a tyrant." He turned and traced the point over Richard's face. "To reduce a family to a man, to a monster."

Richard was calm. Jagang wasn't focused on Kahlan, after all, and Cara was still out there. Kahlan safe and Cara out to save them. What was there to worry about? "I haven't reduced any families lately, Jagang. How about you?"

Jagang smiled. "Yes. But that will soon change." He threw the sword aside. The sound of it clattering echoed through the basement. Jagang could've interrogated Richard anywhere, but he seemed most comfortable underground, in the dark. "Do you know how chainfire works?"

Richard tested his bonds for the thousandth time. As much as everyone had cautioned him about his rage, he would give it free rein if he had just one shot at Jagang. "Zedd taught me. It's fire that burns history."

"Very good, Seeker. Instead of ending a life, it erases it, removing that link from the chain of time. And not just people. If I burnt an apple tree with that spell, then no one would ever have eaten its apples. If I dried a lake, then no fish would ever spawn in its depths."

"I just said Zedd taught me."

"Zedd's only a Wizard of the First Order. I _outrank_ him. And Seeker... you're thinking too small." Jagang gave the Sword of Truth a kick and it spun, the blade making a horrendous sound, scraping against the stone floor. "Imagine if one were to burn away the Sword of Truth. No Seekers. No quests. No helpful Mother Confessors, or Wizards, or families emptying of blood because something went wrong in the grand plan."

"Impossible. The Sword of Truth has powerful magic woven into every particle of it. You'd only destroy yourself."

"Then we'll have to burn every particle at once. Imagine it." Jagang's voice swelled. A long-held dream finally spilling out of him." My entire army taking your birthright from you. A thousand spells cast against the Wizards' crowning glory..."

Richard's face reflected Jagang's vision, but instead of being inspired, his voice dropped to horror. "You wouldn't just singe history. You'd pull it apart."

"I'd have my family back. And with no Seeker to stop me, I'd bring peace to this world." He touched Richard's face, not throttling him, but with a kind of empathy. "Imagine your life without Darken Rahl."

"It's not worth gambling the world. Nothing is."

"It's easy to say that, with your woman's voice still fresh in your ears. Forget the color of her eyes and the feel of her hair, we'll see if you feel the same. In fact..." He picked up the Sword of Truth. "I think I'll run this through the Mother Confessor before we cast the spell. And then you can tell me if we should leave the world as it is." 

* * *

Cara didn't know what she was going to do as she ran back to town square. It was something she hated about Richard and Kahlan when they'd played heroes. But she had to admit, it did feel good.

The war wizards were still rounding up the townspeople-what was left of them-when Cara returned. She took her sword out from its concealment against her leg and unwrapped its telltale hardness from the bundle of cloth she'd swathed it in and fitted it to her hand. A war wizard waited around the corner of the house she was shaded by, worrying at the wound of a dead man, its fingers poking inside and dragging out red. She thought of Kahlan. Her breath came steady as she stepped out and swung and the blade cleaved the man's head from his shoulders. And he stood and turned to her and on the ground, his head smiled.

Cara took the dagger from her belt. Plan B.

"No!" someone shouted. Cara recognized the voice but didn't let her mind put a name to it. She was swinging when Dahlia (that was the name, that was who tried to stop her) pushed her aside and drove her dacra into the war wizard. Without his han, his body gratefully made its transition to dust.

Cara was too stricken to speak. Without her rage to protect her, the sight of Dahlia struck her dumb.

"It's not a weapon," Dahlia said. "It's a test. You turn it on yourself."

There was a commotion from the square. Jagang was coming out of a cellar. He dragged Richard with him, threw the Seeker down to the ground in chains.

"Say what you mean and say it fast," Cara ordered.

"The Wizards knew the power of the Clear Eye's Fire was unlike any other. Its magic is such that once made, it cannot be unmade. So they limited its _application_ as much as possible."

Jagang was barking orders in High D'Haran. The translation of his words tugged at Cara's mind.

"What limitations?"

"They knew that there would always be those who fell to darkness, and some of them would always find their way back to the light. They thought someone who'd fallen to the darkness would better be able to resist its temptation."

Cara remembered the passage Berdine had found. _Cleansed of black until it shines of white/Made whole from what was always divided._ "That's why Rahl wanted me. Why he wasted Nicci on my life. Because I was the only one with enough darkness in me to use it."

The war wizards were moving to obey Jagang's orders. One of them disappeared into a house.

There were tears in Dahlia's eyes. Why were there tears in her eyes? "But it wasn't enough. After Amfortas used it, he thought that _no one_ could wield such power without being corrupted. So he put another spell on it." Her voice cracked. "Whoever uses it, forfeits their own life."

For a moment, Cara was cast back to the Underworld. She remembered the panic she'd concealed, a childish fear, but growing for every second she had spent without her leathers, her Agiels, without even the body she had trained to perfection. "So if I sacrifice myself, then I can stop Jagang. That's what it will take."

The war wizard reappeared, dragging Kahlan behind him. Cara turned and couldn't look away. For a moment, Dahlia, the Clear Eye's Flame, her own life, all forgotten. She wanted to go to them and rip off the hand that had touched Kahlan.

"That's why we have to find someone else," Dahlia was saying. "We can go to a monastery, there'll be someone who murdered or stole or littered or _something_-"

The war wizard was bringing Kahlan to Jagang. The emperor had the Sword of Truth in his hands.

"How does it work?" Cara asked.

Dahlia was silent. Cara looked to her and their eyes met. Cara had dreamed of Kahlan looking at her like that. There was such devotion there, a look that wasn't blind to what she'd done, but made it seem insignificant. Then Dahlia's eyes grayed with sorrow. She smiled in the same instant.

"Like this."

She took hold of the dagger and pulled it into her own breast.

_Cleansed of black until it shines of white  
Made whole from what was always divided  
Full of pain until set free  
No hate, no fear, no hunger, no want  
The blind will see by the Clear Eye's Fire_

Cara gasped. Her control was gone as if it'd never been there, and every emotion she'd ever shoved down, ignored, denied, they'd massed into an army and occupied her. Razed her.

"If it's not too presumptuous of me, I don't think you're the only one who's redeemed herself." And Dahlia let gravity take her to the ground.

Away from them, the war wizards were disappearing into green flame, Jagang's scream an omnipresent sound. Cara couldn't hear it. Just Dahlia's breathing, coming slower and slower.

"It's better this way," Dahlia was saying when Cara could hear her again.

"I'm not better!" Cara's feelings were rebelling, taking over her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, not just for Dahlia—for Leo, for her father, for everyone she'd ever lost and everyone she'd never taken in. "You make me strong."

"And weak."

"I could live with that kind of weakness."

Dahlia smiled with thin lips. "I might as well leave now. I can't do better than that."

Her eyes shut.

Cara didn't hesitate. She gave Dahlia the Breath of Life, but this time it didn't warm the target's cheeks or color her lips. Cara did it again, this time close enough to smell Dahlia's mix of rain and lightning. Dahlia wouldn't wake. Again Cara tried, though now her overtaxed Breath burned from her lungs. Dahlia's eyes would not open.

Finally, Cara wiped the tears from her eyes. She picked Dahlia up and held her to the light. Spoke quietly, but firmly. "I never asked why. And I never asked anything for myself. I don't know which of you have her… but give her back. Or I'll come looking for her."

She gave Dahlia the Breath of Life, one last time.

Dahlia didn't stir.

Cara pulled her knees up to her chest. She settled in to wait. When Richard and Kahlan noticed her, however long that took, they would want to comfort her, provoke words of woe from her mouth for them to soothe. She'd have to be ready to dismiss them. Her weakness wasn't safe with either.

"Are those tears for me, Mistress Cara?"

"Mord'Sith do not cry," Cara countered instinctively, before she even realized who it was that had spoken.

Dahlia wiped a dripping tear from Cara's jaw. "Then I guess you're not a very good Mord'Sith."

If it were Kahlan, Cara would've let the Mother Confessor hug her, kiss her, voice any amount of affection. But it was Dahlia, and they were almost of a mind when it came to love. Cara looked Dahlia in the eye and let her battered, eternal mask fall away for a moment to the wide, relieved smile beneath.

"I was with the Spirits," Dahlia said. "I saw everyone. My parents… everyone."

Cara thought of seeing her father again. "I'm sorry to take you away from that."

"I can die anytime. I'd rather be with you." 

* * *

The rest was Richard. He stewarded Hartland through its grieving, softening it with the work of rebuilding. And eventually people started again to laugh and cheer, until they were celebrating their victory. Cara helped as she could, and for the most part she was not even recognized. At night she slept with Dahlia as Mord'Sith did, upside-down to each other, ready to cover the other's back if they were woken in the night.

For over a year, Cara had had the quest as a reason to press onward, to complain at every delay, to avoid familiarity and entanglement. Without an excuse to be on the move, she found there was no great terror in staying put, no infirmity in putting down roots.

One morning, she came back from hunting to find Kahlan waiting for her instead of Dahlia. She knew what it was about. Talk between them had been politely strained of late, and if Kahlan had sought her out, it could only mean one thing.

Cara set about gutting her prey for the icebox. "You and Richard are to be wed. You'll have the ceremony in Aydindril. Then you'll help him take the D'Haran throne, and peace will spread across the land."

Kahlan was damnably calm. "If you know what I'm going to say, then I'm sure I know what your answer is."

"I'd like to visit my sister. I'd like to see you and Richard. But for now…" Cara felt the urge to take it all back, to swear eternal loyalty to Richard, to Kahlan. It was easy to resist. "They don't fear me here. They see me as you see me."

Kahlan smiled, ruefully, then not. "As a woman, not as a Mord'Sith. It's something I would want for you."

Cara looked away. "Take care of Richard. He'll need it."

The conversation was over, but Kahlan lingered. "Cara, what is it you would want from me, if I could give it to you?"

"I'd want you to teach me how to have… this." Cara gestured as ephemerally as her upbringing would allow. "But I'm figuring it out on my own."

Kahlan got closer to Cara, and when the Mord'Sith didn't shy away, she placed a kiss on Cara's forehead. Kahlan was just at the right height to do so. "There will always be a place for you in my heart."

"And for you in mine. But there will be others as well."

"Fill your heart with as many as you can," Kahlan avowed. "That's all I have left to teach you." 

* * *

She never saw the Mord'Sith. It wasn't that she avoided them, but they were always with Richard and Richard was always with Kahlan and those circumstances were not conductive to encounters. She was not compelled to work around them, either. Being with the Mord'Sith, even without her leathers and with her Agiels in a box under the bed she tried never to open, made her feel like her old self.

Still, before Richard left, she made a point of seeking them out. Being in the midst of their leather-clad perfection and screaming Agiels made her swell with pride in her sisters, arrogance in herself.

Triana was the only one to speak. The first thing she said was "You're out of uniform. Why?"

Cara's pants and vest were still leather, but besides that, they bore little resemblance to what the Mord'Sith were. "Easier to take off," she answered at length.

"I came to say goodbye."

"Farewells are meant to alleviate pains of separation," Triana replied. "But I won't miss you at all."

"I know you won't. Watch over the Lord Rahl… and Kahlan."

She left, and the feeling of power and conceit departed, never to return. 

* * *

They left in a blaze of pageantry. Cara attended and let herself be fussed over by Richard and Kahlan and Zedd. They even got the traces of fondness they had come to expect from her.

Finally, when nothing was left to be said, she let herself be hugged by Richard and Kahlan, one after the other, and gave Zedd a hard glare when he tried to do the same.

For the next few weeks, Cara went to sleep only to dream of Kahlan. First, nightmares of Kahlan in danger. Easy to dismiss. Kahlan could handle herself. Then dreams of Kahlan with Richard, marrying him, loving him, carrying his child. After waking from those dreams, Cara couldn't get back to sleep, no matter how Dahlia soothed her.

A week later she was in the woods, fortifying a local bridge someone had done a piss-poor job of building, when she saw one of the village girls, a little blonde thing of ten years, bounding out of the forest. "Sonja, wait up!" Dahlia called, skirt gathered in her hands to follow closely. Though the hem was no lower than the robes of the Sisters of the Dark, she was still having trouble accustoming to it.

"What are you doing out here?" Cara asked, surprised to find her voice not a growl.

"Sonja wanted to give you something," Dahlia said. "Go on, Sonja."

Sonja's gift was red fabric, knitted together in the bulbous form of an Agiel. A leather thong strung through it turned it into a necklace.

"Thank you," Cara said when the girl wouldn't go away.

"Put it on," Dahlia suggested.

So Cara did. Leather at her throat. She could live with it.

Sonja looked at her for a moment, then ran off like she was late for something important. "Okay, bye."

"What was that about?" Cara demanded of Dahlia.

"I told everyone it was your birthday. You seemed like you could use a pick-me-up."

Cara started at Dahlia. She was a beautiful woman. Her expression was neutral, but the mask had changed from the Sister of the Dark Cara had once known. There was a disdain gone from her eyes. She'd held herself above the world and now she'd fallen into it… her clothes comfortably loose, hair askew, smile ready. Cara knew how it felt. Terrifying, then exhilarating.

"Is this truly what you want, to eke out an existence in this little corner of the world, rusting like a blade in a sheath?"

"What I want is to never again forget the sound of your voice."

When presented with emotions, Cara had disdained them. Misunderstood them. Now, she felt something in her that played in tune with the look in Dahlia's eyes, that flowed up to pass between them. She closed her eyes and it didn't stop. "Foolish girl. Do you know what it is Mord'Sith call love?"

She stepped closer to Dahlia and the woman didn't flinch.

"I'd be your whore… as long as I'm yours."

"I'd want that from any other woman. Submission. Pain. But not from you. All I want is for you to keep looking at me like that. You make me stronger."

"And weaker."

Cara didn't care about strength. She kissed Dahlia, took her, had her more utterly than she could any slave, and was in turn broken more than a thousand years of torture could accomplish. She was Dahlia's. Dahlia was hers.

And it was enough. It was more than enough.


End file.
